


Bloody Ruin

by esama



Category: Castlevania (TV), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blood, Blood Drinking, Bloodletting, Canon level of blood and gore, Eventual Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Season/Series 01, spoilers for the tv show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-11-30 16:17:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11467173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esama/pseuds/esama
Summary: Vampire hunter and a vampire try to get along.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed  
> Written under influence

The city is little more than a bloody ruin by the time they make it back up. By that time, the morning is dawning somewhere beyond the half crumbling walls, and its first rays shine a brutally clear light on the carnage, hiding none of it.

The horde hadn't destroyed the city, the people still survived to see the dawn – but it was a close thing. There's more cooling bodies than there are living ones left, and those left standing stand on pools of blood, most of them wailing in mindless, wordless and maybe even emotionless agony.

Trevor swallows what he wants to say, swallows the saliva he wants to spit at the nearby pool of something black and inhuman. It's so common, this scene, this carnage. When it's started, he'd wailed too. Now it's just wearisome, all of it – he understands it, but that doesn't mean he isn't disgustingly tired of it.

"The nighthorde," a soft voice murmurs from behind him, and for a moment, just for a split of a breath, Trevor considers his whip.

The vampire stands in the shadow of what used to be the entrance to a warehouse, neatly beyond the sunlight's reach, and he has the fucking gall to look regretful. Like he fucking cares.

"Yes," Sypha says, her voice strong and shaking all at once. "That is how we came upon your place of rest – during the battle, the street gave away under us."

"Your little hidey hole leaves something to be desired when it comes to structural stability," Trevor mutters and looks at the vampire. A fucking _vampire_ , almighty fucking Jesus.

The vampire looks back at him, schooling his expression, regret vanishing into something cold, something aloof. Trevor would've called it inhuman, except it isn't and maybe that's what rubs him the wrong way worst about the vampire. Adrian, Alucard, whatever the fuck his name is, plays at human expression too convincingly, too perfectly. It makes Trevor think of statures, of paintings, something artful and ultimately fake.

Trevor looks away before the urge to crack the facade gets better of him. But damn... he really does want to punch the man in his perfect fucking vampire teeth.

Thanks to the skinny bastard, they hadn't needed to climb all the way up from the depths of the catacombs the way they'd fallen down, and Trevor can muster some gratitude for that at least. Still.

"If we hadn't maybe we could've done something more about... this," Trevor motions at a nearby body, a child, who by the looks of the blood trails had been dragged out of her home through the window and who hadn't made it down to the street alive.

The vampire doesn't answer, merely tucks at his collar, lifting it slightly to shield himself from the sun maybe. Trevor scoffs at him and then tilts his head. "How do you do in sunlight, anyway?"

The vampire chuckles and glances away. "Better than some," he says – but he still doesn't actually step into the light. That's answer enough.

"We Speakers have a house here," Sypha says into the following silence. "It is not much, but you're welcome to it – and my grandfather would very much like to meet you, I'm sure."

"If he's still alive," Trevor mutters, looking away. "Since, you being here, I imagine they didn't do the sensible thing and stay underground. Or better yet, leave."

"How could we, at such a time?" she answers, half in indignation and half in weary resignation. She shakes her head. "They will be out now, offering what aid they can to the people. I should..."she looks out to the open street. "I should do the same..."

Trevor grits his teeth – but he doesn't argue. Speakers, they're not much for listening, it turns out.

Sypha looks at him and then towards the vampire. "I could show you to the house..." she offers. "If... if you wish."

Adrian, Alucard, whichever, looks at her – and then at Trevor, expectant. Trevor waves a hand. "Do what you want," he says and turns away with a sigh. "I'm hungry; I'm going to find something to eat. And my cloak," he mutters. If it hasn't burned, or been torn to pieces by fucking demons by now.

"Belmont," Sypha says, frowning. "We should stay together, we should work together."

"We're not doing anything while it's light outside and the undead princeling is stuck hiding in the shadows," Trevor scoffs. "I'll come by later, when it's dark. We'll figure out what to do next then."

"In that case," the vampire says. "I will return below ground for the time being. I will meet with you two later."

"You don't even know where we're meeting!" Sypha says.

"Rest assured, I will find you," the vampire says and Trevor can feel his eyes in the back of his neck. "Belmont."

"What?" Trevor asks, without turning around, no matter how his skin crawls.

The vampire hums – and then he's gone.

"I'm going to love that guy, I just know it," Trevor grunts and shudders. Vampires. Eurgh.

"You know, it wouldn't hurt for you to _try_ being polite to him," Sypha says. "He's our only chance, and you know it. He is our only hope for putting an end to this."

"Maybe," Trevor allows, and glances at his shoulder. The cut on his upper arm is shallow, it's already stopped bleeding, but the fact that it's there at all... "But he's still a _vampire_. And there's a damn good chance that when push comes to shove, he'll pick a side and I doubt it will be ours."

Sypha makes a face. "You don't know that. His mother was human."

"His mother was killed by humans," Trevor points out. She all but pouts at him and Trevor shakes his head. Damn, but she's young. "I'll give him the benefit of the doubt for now," he says, begrudgingly. The guy had beaten him – held him down, throat in range, and yet hadn't killed him. But still. "Let's hope we're not the only two people around when he gets hungry, though."  

"I'm sure he wouldn't," Sypha says quickly.

"And I'm sure you don't know much about vampires," Trevor scoffs – and then his stomach growls. Damn, last thing he had was an apple, and that was a whole night ago. Night, with no drink, no sleep, no rest. Gresit, such a hospitable city. "I'll see you later, Sypha. Try not to get killed before then, alright?"

"I think you're wrong about him," she says as he turns to walk away.

"And I hope you're right," Trevor agrees amiably, and then mutters to himself, "but excuse me while I won't hold my breath in the mean while."

* * *

 

There's not much anyone can do for the good people of Gresit. As he wanders around the city in search of breakfast, Trevor offers the occasional hand in throwing a body in a ditch or clearing away rubble, but it's like trying to patch up a broken barrel with pieces of lint.

There's not as much destruction here as there were in some other cities that were run over and eventually to the ground by Dracula's hordes... but there is enough. Were the times different, Gresit would be abandoned after this. The walls are barely standing, the buildings are full of holes, fires are still raging on rooftops. The greatest source of security, the Cathedral, is a smoking pile of brickwork now. There are more corpses than there are living people, and judging by the looks of it, they're running out of places to dump their dead safely. Were times different, Gresit would already be a ghost town.

But Gresit had survived the horde – the are still living people left. There are still portions of the walls standing – enough, maybe, to rebuild the rest. The cathedral is gone, but there are enough priests left to offer some protection. More than the open land outside, anyway.

It's a devastated wreck of a city, full of devastated wrecks of people – but it's still alive. Alive, to be ransacked, and torn and devastated another day.

"I haven't any coin," Trevor says to the woman, who a death and lifetime ago sold him a piece of goat.

"Take it," she says, staring listlessly at the street. "Have all of it. It's no use, anymore. We're all dead. We're walking around, but we're dead, all of us. Just hasn't caught up with us yet."

Trevor goes for his knife and then hesitates. "They won't come tonight," he then offers. "The demons were out in force yesterday – they won't come out like that again in a while."

"How'd you know?" she asks, and she doesn't even have the energy to make it accusing.

Because demons don't enjoy preying on the defeated – they prefer the hopeful. Gresit as it is now is no fun, no challenge for them. No, instead of coming immediately, they'd give them a moment, week or a month, to regain some strength and hope, and then they'd come to take it away again, just when it would be at its sweetest.

"They need to recover too, don't they?" Trevor lies and takes his knife before the saleswoman can change her mind. He considers the meats on offer and cuts into the goat again – it was tough as old leather and about as tasty, but it had lasted him good half a day last time, trying to chew through the thing. "They were chased away, after all – they need to lick their wounds a while."

She looks at him like he's simple. "The Speakers," she says. "They'll just summon them again, won't they? And now, with no proper church..."

Right, Trevor thinks, of course. These people... "Thanks for the meat," he says.

She looks at him, her expression hardening. "Wasn't you the one going around with that Speaker witch?"

"No, must've been someone else," Trevor says, and turns to go.

"Maybe if we burn her..."

For a moment Trevor considers it. Just for a moment. It's _tempting_.

In the end, though, these people are beaten enough. And his momentary satisfaction in adding to that wouldn't really help anything, not in the long term, not really in the short term either.

"They won't come tonight," he says over his shoulder, and turns his attention to the meat.

It's like eating bits of old boots, and yet somehow still better than starvation.

* * *

 

It's not all shit, though. Turns out, lot of the people who fought in the square survived, and they are something like triumphant – if you can call a future of nightmares and blood shot eyes triumph.

"They burned, they burned, just like that, just from the water," one of them says while Trevor walks past. "I got me some in a bottle now, the priest gave us what he had left, and he's blessing more even now, so that everyone can have some, see? Maybe that way we can..."

Trevor doesn't have the heart to tell them that holy water is a distraction at best – and it has the tendency of losing potency over time, especially peaceful time. Desperation and need to survive, now that makes some properly potent holy water – mass producing it in a more peaceful hour... not so much.

The priest is making it by the bucketful, from what Trevor can see.

He is recognized now and sometimes even in something like positive light – some of the would be warriors and defenders point him out, saying "That's him over there!", and some of them even sidle along to talk to him.

"That was incredible, what you did in the square, how did you know all that?" they ask and, "Are you – are you looking to stay here, in Gresit?" and, "You can teach us, with you, we can fight them back!"

The way they look at him, it turns his stomach. It reminds him too much of... times long lost. Sickening, is what it is now. And yet, he can't quite scoff at them. Especially since he doesn't know if he's leaving or not.

He should know – Gresit is far from a sort of place he'd like to spend any prolonged time in. And yet... there's Sypha, there's the Speakers, there's the vampire bastard, and all the fucking prophesies there in. And Trevor knows too much to just ignore it all off hand. Fucking Speakers and their stories.

"Just concentrate onto patching the walls for now," Trevor says. "Putting up crosses, saying honest, faithful prayers to your dead. Wash the pools of demon shit with holy water if you can, or salt them. And if you can, wash or salt your dead too." Though there's been no risen corpses here so far, it probably wouldn't hurt anyway.

"You got it, sir," one of the pike men says, all perky like he wants to throw a fucking salute and then goes off to spread the word.

Trevor looks after him and then sighs. He needs a drink. And some sleep.

* * *

 

He finds drink in the fingers of a dead man, a bottle half spilled on the cobblestone. The man had obviously decided to go out in good spirits and good on him, Trevor thinks, even as he uses the man's tunic to mop his blood off the bottle. That's the kind of thinking he can get behind. Obviously they would've gotten along splendidly in life.

He drinks in the man's honour in a long, deep gulp, letting the wine wash away the taste of blood and ash from his tongue. The dead man had good taste in wine too, turned out. It wasn't quite the piss water Trevor had been expecting.

"So," a voice says from nearby shadow. "I suppose expecting any class from you was a fool's errand."

Trevor just barely manages to keep himself from choking on the wine – and in so doing, manages to spill it all over his chin. "Aw, shit," he grumbles and quickly lowers the bottle. "Asshole, you made me waste perfectly good wine."

"A shame, truly," the vampire says and Trevor rounds on him with a glare. The pale bastard stands in the shade of the alley, all but glowing in the shadows, with the burn of sunlight not a foot off his face. A step forward, and he'd be singeing his nose off.

"I thought you were going to sulk under ground," Trevor grumbles and wipes at his wine soaked chin.

"I did," the vampire says and folds his arms. How he looks under dressed in that fucking coat, Trevor isn't sure, but he does. It's almost offensive, how casual he is – and Trevor himself doesn't have a leg to stand on there. Still, vampire looking like he just rolled off the bed...

"And?" Trevor asks. "Is there something I can do for you? Which, in all fairness and honesty, I will not be doing for you. Just do you know."

The vampire smiles at that – and the fact that it isn't mocking annoys the fuck out of Trevor. "Trevor Belmont, the last son of the house of Belmont," he says. "I have been watching you."

"Well that's just fucking wonderful, isn't it," Trevor mutters. Why the fuck does the creepy asshole follow him around, when it's Sypha who's all but ready to go down on her knees in worship of the pale skinny bastard, he'd like to know.  

Although, to be fair... he really wouldn't have liked the vampire to follow Sypha around either.

"You try so hard not to care," the vampire says. "The fall of your house hit you hard, didn't it? You were there, weren't you?"

"Were you there when father dearest decided to kill all of humanity?" Trevor asks in return.

"I was, actually," the vampire agrees. "And it took me a year of rest to draw breath again after he cut me down."

Trevor scowls at that. Fucking vampires – and yet... Dracula had cut this guy down, and judging by the sound of it, it hadn't taken much effort. And he's supposed to be their saviour. "That's a qualification that leaves something to be desired, isn't it? The Speakers are putting their faith on one wimpy fucking saviour if you ask me. "

The vampire arches his eyebrows subtly at that. "The stories Speakers believe in aren't stories," he says. "They are histories. Our histories – what we will become, as the people of the future remember us."

"What?" Trevor asks.

"They do not mention to drinking," the vampire comments and looks down at the bottle Trevor is holding. "Or the fall of your house. So I imagine the drinking is temporary, and your house will rise anew. Still, it is a curious thing."

"... What?" Trevor asks again, his voice tighter.

"I waited for you. As your Speaker-magician looked for me, I waited for _you_ ," the vampire says and looks away. "You appeared earlier than I expected. I thought perhaps it was too early, perhaps we were meant to meet in few years time, and not yet, not now... You are so immature yet."

"Oh, fuck off," Trevor mutters, casting him an uneasy look. Fucking ethereal asshole. "Or how about I fuck off? You and Sypha can save the world just the two of you, and good luck to you."

The vampire smiles. "I don't think you will," he says. "You try not to care because you do, you care, you care all too much. You couldn't walk away from this anymore than I can. Not while there is a chance."

"Ugh," Trevor answers and runs a hand over his face. "What the hell do you want?"

The vampire doesn't say anything, not until Trevor lowers his hand and looks at him. "To destroy my father."

"That I got, and I agree with you there at least, and the sooner the better," Trevor grunts and waves a hand between them. "But why are you in my face right this moment?"

The vampire. "I can understand the motives of the Speaker-Magician. She is straight forward. You are not," he says. "One day we will fight back to back. I'd like that day to be sooner, rather than later."

"That's not really answering my question," Trevor grinds out.

"Isn't it?" the vampire answers and then, he steps out into the light.

Fuck. He isn't burning. The sunlight is on his face and he's not on fire. He doesn't even have the decency to look like he's in any discomfort.

"If I bare my back to you," the vampire says. "You will stab me."

Trevor swallows. "Maybe," he admits and belatedly realises he's gripped his whip. "Probably."

"What would make you trust me?"

Trevor snorts at that, utterly inelegant in face of the vampire's smooth tones. "Well it's definitely not this," he says, waving between them. "Just so you know. Stalking, not a good basis for any sort of trust based relationship."

"Hm, something to keep in mind then," the vampire says, and inhales, his mouth opening slightly, showing his fangs. "Alucard," he then says.

"What now," Trevor grunts, staring at his teeth.

"I show my teeth to you and you will call me what I want," the vampire says. "Call me Alucard."

Trevor opens his mouth and somehow what comes out of his mouth is, "Wider."

The vampire bares his teeth in silent, a terrible, almost friendly snarl. Trevor stares – just foot from him, a vampire is baring his fangs at him. And not attacking him. How can the guy even talk with the things, how aren't they digging into his lower lip all the dam time? Shit.

Trevor swallows, his eyes still transfixed on the fangs. His mouth is weirdly dry all of sudden.  

"Well?" the vampire asks.

Trevor unconsciously runs his tongue over his own teeth. "Alucard it is, then," he says, his voice rough in his throat.

"... Well, it's a start," Alucard says, watching him closely. "Belmont," he then says.

"What?"

"You're spilling your good wine all of over your leg."

Trevor looks down and then curses – fuck, he forgot the bottle, and now good half of it's gone. Quickly righting the bottle again, Trevor shakes at his leg – aw, shit, it's in his boot too.

He expects Alucard to be gone when he looks up – but he isn't. The vampire is still there, watching him, looming over him. "Such class," he says, amused.

Fuck it.

Trevor throws the bottle at him.


	2. Chapter 2

Trevor leans back against the cooling wall, watching down his nose how the Speakers stumble through their introductions to their vampire saviour. Alucard isn't what they expected, not at all, and though the Speakers are quick to hide the surprise and accept the sudden, changed reality... it looks like it stings.

Trevor doesn't even bother to hide how that amuses him.

They were expecting an angel, or a knight, or some heavenly lord of old. Alucard might fit the bill as far as looks went, but the sharp glint of teeth gives it an insidious edge that's hard to ignore. They were expecting a saviour to guide them through their times of trial or whatever – but Alucard is a demon.

For a moment, Trevor can take some small pleasure in that, in the hidden squirm of unease on their faces, the stiffness of their postures. Reality, when it comes knocking, could be one hell of a bitch.

Still, Alucard plays his part well.

"... I do appreciate your efforts," he says, hand on his chest, bowing his head, all humble and gracious. "And the pains and losses you have suffered. I can only hope they won't be in vain."

"To see you awoken," the Elder says, bowing back. "It makes all our efforts worth it, and more than. The stories of you have been passed down for long, long time, for nearly generations. To see them come true is worth... anything."

Worth the abuse by church, worth all the spilled blood... Trevor wonders at it and leans his cheek to his knuckles. Who knows, they might even be right, even if he can't really see it right now. He has to admit that it's more than anyone else has done, and the Speakers, at least, know what they are on about. If they are actually right is up to debate, but they know their goals – and had achieved them.

Their sleepy messiah is awake. All hail.

"I can practically hear your mockery," Sypha says, sidling up to him. "Can't you ever behave?"

"I didn't say anything," Trevor mutters and glances at her. She has blood on her sleeves and stains on her face – she'd been out and about in the bloodied streets of Gresit. Maybe she'd even done something good there.

"You didn't need to, your expression is loud enough," she mutters and folds her arms, looking down at him. "Belmont, you are not the only one with bad history with night creatures, such as him – but we're at least trying to understand. Why can't you?"

She's so damn young, so upright and righteous. It makes Trevor's teeth ache. "What does it matter?" he asks slowly. "I understand enough. I understand Dracula's motivations – that doesn't mean his horde won't kill me given half the chance."

"But – if you do, then why are you -"

Because vampire is a vampire, no matter how you dress him up, Trevor thinks. And she might've missed it but he hadn't – the glass containers of blood, no doubt _human blood_ , in that contraption that had sustained Alucard in his sleep.

He shakes his head and looks to vampire, standing tall and painfully beautiful in the dimly lit shadows of the wrecked Speaker house. The Speakers had patched up the biggest holes with canvas that looks like it's the remains of broken, torn tents – it definitely doesn't improve the decor much. Alucard doesn't fit in the place, sticking out like sore thumb.

Wonder how the vampire sees the speakers around him, with their soft clothes and open expressions. Speaker cloaks don't do much to protect their necks. Wonder if it made the man's teeth ache the way it made Trevor's.

Sypha looks at him, at Alucard, and then she sighs. "He is our best hope," she says firmly. "He is Wallachia's best hope. You see that, you _know_ that."

"You don't need to sell him to me," Trevor sighs and turns away just as Alucard turns to glance at them over his shoulder. "We're bound by your Speaker stories and destiny and what the fuck ever, right? So I'm sold, count me the fuck in."

"Perhaps," Sypha agrees and looks at him. "But I believe whatever will happen will go much smoother if you..." she searches for a word, "stop being a prick about it."

"Sypha, my ears, my poor sensitive ears," Trevor snorts. "How _could_ you."

"Tch," she answers and looks at him imperiously. "You are rude, Belmont. And not at all like I expected the hunter of the stories to be like. But you are right, we are bound by destiny. So can't you even make an effort?"

"I'm making an effort, look, see?" Trevor says and leans back, lying down beside the wall and crossing his arms behind his head to make a cushion. "I'm here and he's there and neither one of us has a blade out – we're getting along wonderfully."

Sypha looks at him silently for a moment and then sighs. "It's sad that you might actually be serious about that," she murmurs and runs a hand over her face.

Trevor yawns at her. "Serious as the grave. Wake me up when you're done fawning him and we can actually decide what to do, alright?"

* * *

 

"All things considered, you let your guard down easily."

Trevor peeks one eye open. Alucard is standing over him, one hand resting on the grip of his sword, other holding a wooden cup.

"Drinking on the job?" Trevor asks groggily and then grimaces. Definitely not up to bar, that one.

"It's for you, actually," Alucard answers and holds it out. "Soup – the Speakers made it. I was thinking of tipping it over your head."

Trevor grunts sitting up and then drops his arms with a groan – they're half way numb and his left shoulder lets out a crack as he rolls it. "Did you spit on it?" he asks, rubbing at it.

"Please," Alucard says, unimpressed and bends down to set the cup on the floor beside him. Trevor watches him, watches the shift of clothes on him – bend down like that, Trevor can see inside his shirt, all the way to the scars of his belly.

At times, Alucard moves like a fucking succubus. It's a little bit distracting. And distressing.

Rubbing at his neck, Trevor glances down at the cup – it's filled nearly to the brim with what looks like water filled with grass. Wonderful. "Didn't take you for a waitress," he mutters but reaches for the cup. Even if it is grass or whatever, food's food. "Though I gotta say, you'd make a lovely bar wench."

"It comes naturally for you, doesn't it – these insults?" Alucard asks, straightening up again and looking down on him. "It's all but your native tongue, isn't it? I suppose manners are completely beyond your means."

"They're beyond my ability to give a shit, anyway," Trevor answers and takes the cup – holy fuck, it's actually warm. And, taking a sniff at it, he finds it actually smells better than cooked grass.

"Hm. I suppose we all have our coping mechanisms," Alucard comments, tilting his head as Trevor tests at the soup.

It's... actually not half bad. It's mostly weeds and whatnot – no meat, no vegetables to speak of, just herbs swimming in thick broth... but it's almost passably _food_. "So is the worship over?" Trevor asks, looking at the vampire. "Or are you going to have a circle jerk too to top it off?"

Alucard arches an eyebrow at that and then shakes his head. "Obscenity just falls of your tongue, doesn't it?" he says. "I dread to think the state of your throat, and what you've got stuck down there."

"I'll slit your throat before you get anywhere near mine, vampire," Trevor grunts and glares at him. "Don't even think about it."

"Oh believe me, I wouldn't," Alucard says and smiles. "I don't eat trash."

Trevor eyes him, contemplates kicking the asshole's feet from under him. Chances are Alucard would just float, though. "Yeah, you're too classy for that, aren't you?" Prissy prick. "The Speakers?"

Alucard hums and looks away. "We talked and the Speakers brought me up to speed on what has been going on since I went into slumber," he answers.

"Cheerful stories, huh," Trevor answers and chugs down another swallow of the soup. It has a cloying aftertaste. "Still think we can take your dear old dad?"

"I believe only we can," Alucard answers. "But it will not be easy. We must make plans."

Trevor hums in answer and then pushes up to his feet. His knees pop and his back crackles as he lifts the cup of soup above his head in a stretch. Sleeping on stone floor – not the best sleep he's ever had. Beats sleeping in a rainy ditch, though.

"Do you know where Dracula's castle is?" Trevor asks, turning to Alucard. "The catacombs, do they lead there?"

Alucard hesitates. "No," he then admits begrudgingly. "My father sealed me out after our... disagreement. I cannot use our means to reach the castle now."

Trevor frowns. "Well, fuck," he mutters and drinks his soup.

"Hm," Alucard hums in agreement. "Come – Sypha deserves to be part of this discussion."

"Oh, she's Sypha now?" Trevor asks, sending him a suspicious look. "You cosied up to her fast."

"She insisted," Alucard says, sending him a frown. "Why? Don't tell me you're jealous, Belmont."

"Of you?" Trevor scoffs. "In your blood soaked little dreams, vampire. But just so you know, if anything happens to that girl –"

"You'll defend her honour?" Alucard asks with some amusement. "And slay me where I stand? I believe we already established you can't."

"I believe no such thing," Trevor answers with a scoff. "I could've staked you. Stave of silver through the heart will kill you."

"It might – but your little blade is hardly silver. Is it? And your aim was off."

"Like hell it was."

"Are you two fighting already?" They look up to see Sypha standing by the doorway. She rests a hand on her hip. "My grandfather is waiting, Belmont. Alucard, please – we prepared a seat for you."

"I appreciate it," Alucard says smoothly and turns to follow her. "Pardon me for the delay."

"Trust me, with this one I understand completely," Sypha says, shaking her head.

"Tch," Trevor mutters into the soup cup – and then almost walks into Alucard's shoulder when the vampire just stops ahead of him. "What now –?"

"Quiet," Alucard says, lifting a pale, long nailed hand. "Listen."

Trevor glares at him but listens, and Sypha does the same by the door.

An inhuman shriek sounds from outside, where the world has gone otherwise quiet. It's night, Trevor realises – the sun has set.

"A demon," Sypha says, tensing.

"Yes," Alucard agrees and tilts his head a little. "Just the one, from what I can tell."

"Well, the nighthorde tore through this place yesterday," Trevor says. "They won't bother coming again tonight, not in those numbers." It's bit of a surprise that there's any at all, actually.

"Regardless," Alucard says, his hand going for his sword. "One is already one too many."

Trevor looks at him incredulously. "Seriously?" he asks. "You want to go and fight one lesser demon."

"One is enough to kill defenceless humans with ease, and this city is weakened – there are many defenceless humans here," Alucard says, turning to him. "As a Belmont you should know that – as a Belmont, isn't it your job to do something about that?"

"Well as a Belmont I'm out of a job thanks to the church, aren't I?" Trevor asks with a scoff.

Alucard arches an eyebrow and then walks past him on his way to the door leading outside. "I didn't know the Belmonts worked for the church," he comments. "I suppose that explains things."

And then he's gone, leaving Trevor and Sypha staring after the last glimpse of his blond hair, vanishing into the darkness of the streets beyond the door.

"I can't believe this," Trevor sighs.

Sypha hesitates, looking at him. "... _did_ the Belmonts work for the church?" she asks uneasily.

Trevor shakes his head – and then heads after the vampire bastard. And not just to prove him wrong. There are defenceless humans out there, after all – and now there's a vampire in their midst too.

* * *

 

There is something utterly stomach turning, seeing a vampire kill a demon. Alucard's blade isn't consecrated, it has no blessings on it – he wouldn't be able to use it if it did... but, as he watches the thing cut into blackened demon hide like into butter, Trevor realises that it might actually be silver. A vampire... with a silver sword.

Occasionally he has to wonder if this is some sort of fever dream after all, but only reality has this level of stench on it – and silver sword or not, dying demon _stinks_ like nothing else.

The demon they heard isn't the only one, it turns out. It's no horde out there, not by a long shot, but judging by the looks of it the night horde from the previous night left some stragglers behind. They are coming out of their hiding holes now that sun is down, lesser demons, barely more than wild beasts, crawling into the streets and reaching for the people stupid enough to be out doors at this time of the night.

Alucard cuts them down without mercy, sending limbs and heads flying as Trevor joins him, lashing out with his whip and taking out what Alucard hasn't already put down. The vampire glances at him, arches an eyebrow at him, and kicks the dead demon off his sword.

"I thought I felt a blessing on that whip," the vampire comments, as blow from Trevor's whip destroys the demon, leaving behind a steaming pile of black filth.

"Why didn't it burn you, anyway?" Trevor grunts, pulling the whip back and catching the tail in mid flight before drawing it for another blow. "I've seen vampires catch fire at the touch of my whip – why didn't you?"

"Perhaps I'm simply too strong," Alucard muses, lashing with his blade slightly to shake the demon blood off it.

"You're full of shit, is what you are," Trevor mutters and lashes out. The last demon, already burned by what looks like damage from holy water, goes down with a croak, leaving behind smears of black on the already soiled cobblestones. "Are there any more?"

Alucard listens, his golden eyes gleaming low lidded as he concentrates. Then he turns sharply and before Trevor can react, the vampire throws his sword at him.

The silver blade flies past Trevor's cheek faster than he can see, and by the time he turns, it has already imbedded itself into near by wall – pinning another lesser demon onto the wall with it.

"That, I believe, was the last one," Alucard says, holding out his hand. The blade trembles and with a shriek of metal flies off again, back into Alucard's hand, as the demon slides down the wall, dead.

Trevor's hand trembles for a moment as he stares at the dead demon. Then, gritting his teeth, he coils his whip, not looking at the vampire, not yet. He might do something stupid, if he does.

"I thought this wasn't your job, Belmont."

"Well my job isn't unleashing a fucking vampire on the good people of Gresia either," Trevor mutters and inhales. Then, once he's sure he's not about to lash out, he looks at the vampire.

Alucard's sword is floating again, sliding on its own back to its sheath, where it nestles with a click. Trevor can see why – the damn thing is too long to be sheathed by hand. Still. "Show off," Trevor says resentfully. "Shouldn't be doing that out where people can see you. They might get a wrong impression." Or rather, the right one.

Alucard pauses at that, frowning slightly. "Ah," he says and swings his coat tail over the sword sheath. "I will refrain in future."

"In future," Trevor repeats. "You think we're staying here?"

"You think we're not?"

"I _thought_ we were going to find Dracula's castle," Trevor says with a scowl.

"That is the idea – but the castle isn't a thing you find by looking," Alucard says, walking towards him. "You should know that, _Belmont_."

Trevor frowns. "Then how the hell are we going to find it?" he asks with gritted teeth. In Belmont histories, the castle was usually found because of all the damn trouble it was causing to the nearby lands. Nowadays, though, no one knew where the damn thing was. It hadn't been seen since Targoviste had burned to the ground – and with the nighthorde going around from city to city... it could be anywhere.

"With foreknowledge," Alucard admits. "We'll find where it will be, rather than where it is."

"Where it -" Trevor stops. "The Speaker stories."

"Precisely," Alucard agrees and motions with his hand. "Shall we?"

Trevor hesitates and then latches his whip to his side. "By all means. After you," he says.

Alucard smiles – but doesn't bare his back to him, just waits on him. Trevor doesn't move either, eying him suspiciously. Around them, the bodies of hell beasts _stink_.

"Vampire who kills demons," Trevor then says, glancing at the corpses. "Seriously. What is the world coming to?"

"Hell, judging by the evidence," Alucard answers and glances him up and down. "And you're a hunter who doesn't hunt, not until you're pushed to it anyway. I suppose that at least is thematically appropriate, when it comes to you and me."

Trevor grunts. You and me. Like they're a fucking _thing_. "I told you. The people of Wallachia decided they didn't want us hunting. They very pretty damn vehement about it, actually."

Alucard considers him for a moment, not saying anything. "But do you?" he asks.

Does he?

Trevor looks at the demon bodies around them. There'd been time when he had. When it had been a source of pride, when it had been all he'd ever wanted, when he'd felt privileged and honoured to have been born into his family. Belmont's fight monsters, son.

Most of the Belmonts were killed by people, though.

"Your mother was burned at the stake by humans," Trevor says, frowning. "Doesn't that piss you off?"

Alucard's expression clears, becoming utterly void of emotion. "Like you wouldn't imagine," he says. "But my mother, with her last breath, begged mercy for them. And that is more important to me than any anger that I might harbour."

"See, my mother did nothing of the sort when she burned," Trevor scoffs. "She just _died_."

Alucard blinks. "Your mother was burned at the stake?"

"No. She was burned at the ancestral house of the Belmont family," Trevor says, his voice low. "Along with the rest of them."

Alucard says nothing, just watches him silently, until Trevor looks away. "So no, I haven't fought monsters in a while," he admits, gripping his whip. "I can't really say I've felt like it."

Standing there, surrounded by demon corpses with a vampire at his side, though...

"I see," Alucard says eventually, after a long silence. "... shall we head back then?"

"Yeah," Trevor sighs, and they head back towards the Speakers' house, side by side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't really mean to but then I ended up continuing this because I couldn't think of what else to write.
> 
> Also, I am drawing some wild conclusions about Trevor's past from the opening in the first episode, where he was shown by a burning/burned mansion. And Alucard has a silver sword because... Whicher, basically. Haha. Idk what I'm doing with this fic, but I'm having fun anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

Speakers. Once upon a time before the world went into shit, Trevor's father had had one epic fist fight with one over a Speaker legend. It had had to do with a monster, rarely seen, which the Belmont family had ran into not long before and by which they had gotten their asses handily handed to them. The Speaker had known about the damn thing – a yet another story passed down in Speaker legends. Except, he hadn't known all of it.

Thing about Speakers and the way they pass on knowledge is that it's... beyond stupid. Tell a story to a man, have that man tell a story to another man, rinse and repeat couple times and then listen to the result – it's never the same. And Speakers are a small, spread out tribe of hungry wanderers – and their legends are beyond numerous. There is no way for one Speaker to know them all. There is no way for them to remember everything perfectly.

This Speaker had heard the stories of the monsters, and he'd forgotten about half of the details. He'd given in earnest information that was complete dog shit. Trevor's cousin had died because of it.

"The only benefit to passing information only orally is that way it can't be stolen," the Head of the Belmont Family had said. "The downsides however are bit more numerous."

That's why they'd wanted the Speaker stories written down – not just to preserve the knowledge before the tradition of passing down through failing human minds corrupted it beyond help, but because that way they could verify it with other, written down, sources. Of course, it never came that.

Belmonts had respected the Speakers. Speakers mean well, their goals are honourable, they are _good_ in way not many such organisations are. While they base their lives on passing their corrupt stories, they also help people, heal them, offer aid. That at least is worthy of respect. But Belmonts did not trust their information again, not fully, not blindly. Take a Speaker at face value, they said – take his stories with a grain of salt.

The fact that they'd been right about Alucard didn't negate the fact that they'd also been wrong about Alucard – though now that he thinks about it, Trevor isn't sure if it's because their stories are based on fucking foretelling from ages past, or because Alucard had heard the stories and then decided to make himself their messiah. Either way, it was lot of flaws on something they'd staked their lives on.

So, when the Elder of the Codrii Speakers bows his head and admits, "We do not know where you can find Dracula's Castle, only that you do," Trevor isn't particularly surprised.

"You do not know," Alucard repeats. "Your stories do not say."

"No, I'm sorry, they do not," the Elder says and sighs. "We have faith that you do, and we know that once you do find the castle, it will be a long, arduous battle to reach the lord of the castle himself, but..."

Trevor smothers his snort, looking away instead. Sypha is squeezing her hands into fists, all but biting her lower lip – she doesn't know either. The other Speakers just look on in interest, but not with guilt. They have no idea either, not much of a surprise. There is one who is looking away, though.

The young man who'd so self righteously spilled the beans on the Speakers couple of times – admitting that Sypha was the Elder's grandchild for one – is staring at a wall instead of looking on, and his expression is fixed. Not guilty, but tense.

Trevor looks away, at Alucard who is eyeing the Elder, at Sypha who is doing the same. "What do the stories say, then?" he asks and folds his arms. "And this time maybe without holding anything back?"

Another thing about Speakers Belmonts had eventually grown very tired off – how they shared their knowledge. They only dished out information by carefully measured spoonfuls, if at all. Only when it served their agenda, when it served their stories – when it best helped make their little prophesies true. All the good intentions in the world did not make that any less frustrating.

The Elder looks at him and then at Alucard. "You already know what we know," he admits. "The sleeper who rests under Gresit will awaken in time of need and will be met by a Hunter and a Scholar – you, and my dear Sypha. Together, they will go and meet Dracula's forces at his castle, together they will put an end to the nighthorde, and save Wallachia."

Trevor waits, looks at Sypha, glances at the young Speaker man. "And the rest of it?" he asks, folding his arms.

The Elder hesitates, a little too long it turns out – because eventually Alucard himself speaks. "They will share a profound bond," he says. "And change the future of Wallacia for better."

Bullshit, Trevor thinks. "Right," he says. "That's helpful. I'm feeling very confident about this whole thing right now. We've practically won already, haven't we?"

"Belmont," Sypha says sharply. "The prophesy has been true so far."

"To a point," Trevor agrees and looks at Alucard. "Didn't make any mention about the fangs, did it?"

Or maybe it did, maybe their little prophesy had once even known the exact location where their eventual battle would take place – but over the years...

Trevor shakes his head and turns away. "Either way it doesn't sound like its going to be any more help to us, does it? We have to figure this out on our own, if we can. Unless, of course... you know anything else of use?"

With his back to the others, they can't see his face – can't see his eyes as he turns them to the young Speaker man. He arches his eyebrows and the Speaker's lips press tighter together.

"Do the Speakers know anything else that might be of use?" Alucard asks behind him.

"I am sorry – no, we know nothing more," the Elder says. "A prophesy is a mere candle flame in the darkness, meant to guide your way to the right direction – it is always up to you yourself to make your way after that."

Trevor scoffs. "Convenient," he says and looks at them over his shoulder. "Does that mean you will be making out way out of Gresit, finally?"

The Elder frowns slightly, looking at the other Speakers. "The people of Gresit still need our help. And with the Christian Church here in such tatters, what little order there has been in the city since the passing of the mayor..." he shakes his head. "No, I do not think we can leave now, not while there are people who still need our aid."

Trevor makes a face and looks away. Well... they're not wrong. "Chances are there won't be a city left, after the next time the nighthorde comes," he points out. "This place is a death trap."

"That may be," the Elder says tiredly. "But it is a death trap in need of aid. We cannot turn out back to it. It is not our way."

Suicidal bastards.

"Considering the state of affairs here now," Alucard says slowly. "You Speakers are now the most organised force in the city, aren't you? Both in numbers and ability, you are the strongest as well."

There's a moment of silence as that settles in. Dracula's horde had torn the government of Gresit to the ground, first its headmen, then its guardsmen, its healers and doctors, and now the church. There might be few smattering of priests left, Gresit had seemed to have them to spare, but with the cathedral gone, the Bishop dead, his men torn to pieces...

If they wanted to, the Speakers could very easily take the whole city over now. 12 Speakers, scholars with wide range of abilities, and Trevor has no doubt they all know at least a little bit of magic. Even if they aren't all at Sypha's level... it's more than anyone else in the city has, and definitely more than anyone without magic can fight against. Hell, Sypha alone would've been enough to take over the city.

If they played their cards right now, they could become the city's guardians, its magical defenders. It would take a while, there'd be opposition, but with Church in ruins the greatest source of it was gone. And times being what they were, the people of Gresit would have no choice but flock to these people for protection, once they realized it was actually on offer and _worked_.

"You could make this city yours," Alucard muses and Trevor nods thoughtfully. They could, they really could. Give it a bit of time, they could name their Elder the new spiritual or governmental leader of Gresit, and that would be that.

"If this place wasn't about to die all around you, you might actually have a chance to make it better," Trevor says. "Educate these people, and if that doesn't take, then at least govern them in a way that makes some fucking sense in time like this."

Judging by the looks of it, it had never even occurred to these guys. And now that is has, there are takers – it's lighting up some faces around them.

"No," the Elder says before the idea can take root. "No, that is not out way, it is not the way of the Speakers. We will offer our aid; we will offer our abilities. Nothing more."

Trevor looks at him in frustration and then his eyes find Alucard's. None of it shows, but Trevor gets the feeling they feel pretty much the same about this.

"In life, my mother sought to educate the people of Wallachia, to teach them sciences, the true knowledge," Alucard says, looking away from Trevor. "It was her thinking that should people learn to understand the world better, they would become better in return. Knowledge begets understanding. You could teach people here."

"We will do what we can," the Elder says firmly. "But our ways must be respected. They have lasted us generations; they have served us through many hardships. We cannot abandon them now."

So there's the true limit to Speaker kindness – help people, but god forbid you from teaching them to help themselves. _Speakers_.

"Whatever," Trevor says, feeling strangely weary, and turns away. "Well, since there's nothing more we or indeed _anyone_ can learn here... how about we use the candle light we've been given and make our way the hell out of here?"

"And go where?" Alucard asks. "Do you know where we can begin our search?"

"In the light of God," Trevor answers with a snort.

"What are you saying?" Sypha asks sharply.

"The church brought Dracula upon us all," Trevor shrugs and heads for the door. "Maybe they knew something. Couldn't hurt to check, anyway." And it would get him away from the Speakers before their collective nonsense would infect him with impaired sense of the common variety, which is all he really wants right now. That, and a drink.

"The church blamed us Speakers, they knew nothing," Sypha says with a frown.

"Their insane bishop was from Targoviste – he's the one who burned Dracula's wife alive," Trevor comments and then instantly regrets it as Alucard goes completely tense, his face somehow draining of what little colour that was there. Shit. Well, too late now. "So, uh, I figure he probably knew something – maybe he left something useful behind. Like a written record."

"The Cathedral is gone, there is nothing left," the Speaker Elder says.

"I rather doubt the bishop lived there," Trevor says with a snort. "Guy like that – he'd need a full mansion to house his massively inflated sense of self importance."

"He did – he had a manor house, yes," the young Speaker man speaks at last. "East of the cathedral – it's still there, I saw it earlier."

"Arn," the Elder says, admonishing.

"Great," Trevor says and clasps the young Speaker man by the neck, hauling him in. "That's a _great_ idea; you can show me to it. Come on, now."

"But –"

"Belmont!" Sypha snaps, but Trevor ignores them all and all but drags Arn away with him, out of the meeting hall.

"The mansion isn't hard to find, it has crosses at the gates – I'm sure you can find it on your own," the Speaker man says. "You don't need me to show it to you."

"You know something," Trevor says, leaning in and almost speaking directly to the Speaker's ear. "Something the others are either overlooking or just aren't aware of, and I am done waiting you people to inform me of my fucking destiny at your leisure. So you're going to show me the way and tell me what's what and that's that. Deal?"

"I -" Arn says and then snaps his mouth shut, frowning. "And if I don't?"

"I'll hang you up a flag pole," Trevor says and trips the young man's neck tighter. "Real high up too."

And then they're out of the house and in the darkness of the streets. It still stinks of demon blood and blood in general, of corpses and misery and disease – but somehow, the air is clearer than it was in the house.

"How did you know?" Arn asks quietly. "That I might know more?"

"So far you've been only one in that damn house who has been anything like straight with me," Trevor scoffs. "Funny how that might make a man keen on what you might think. And whatever you are, you don't have poker face worth shit."

Arn ducks his head in embarrassment for a moment. "Very well," he says. "I – it was against the Elder's orders, but while I was out and about offering what aid I could, I... sometimes, I followed the priests. I don't have Sypha's great talents, but I am good at going unseen, and sometimes I hear things. And I am a Speaker – a Speaker remembers."

Well he'll be damned. Speaker who's good at listening. Trevor grins and decides there and then that of all the Speakers, he definitely likes this little asshole the best. "And?"

"And..." Arn hesitates and then almost blushes, looking away. "It is against the way of the Speakers, but... I... I can read."

Trevor stares at him. "You can read?" he asks.

"Yes, I – I learned in secret."

For a moment Trevor just stares at him in astonishment, not sure what surprised him more – the fact that Speakers apparently can't read, or that this little upright proper little Speaker, so against violence because it wasn't the way of the true Speakers... had gone against the way of the Speakers. Though really, maybe it shouldn't surprise him, that Speakers couldn't read. They certainly couldn't write worth damn.

And no one is quite as quick to point accusing finger, as the man breaking the rules himself.

"Well," Trevor says in mocking amazement. "My dear Arn, you're full of surprises."

The young man casts him a look and then looks away. "I -" he starts and then trails off, embarrassed. "I... there is a storage, I think for items confiscated by the church, I... read the books there. The Speaker legend was written on one of them – the original Speaker legend."

"Oh, this is getting better by the moment," Trevor all but leers at him. "And what did you learn?"

"What are you _doing_?"

Trevor stills and then looks over his shoulder. Alucard, of course, is walking towards them, cool look on his face. The vampire looks down on the arm Trevor has around Arn's shoulders and then arches a coolly judgemental eyebrow.

"This guy here," Trevor says and ruffles Arn's pretty little head. "Just became my best friend."

Alucard's other eyebrow arches. "Well you do look friendly enough," he says, even colder now. "I can't say the same from the young man there."

Trevor looks at him with mock surprise. "Is that _jealousy_ I hear or are you just pissy on principle?"

"I think," Alucard says, narrowing his eyes. "That you should let the young man go now, Belmont."

Trevor eyes him, now in honest surprise. Alucard is being serious. And seriously threatening. He is actually gripping his sword. What the hell did he....?

Alucard looks at Arn, and Trevor does the same. Arn _squirms_ under the attention, trying to wring himself away from Trevor's grip. And Trevor realises that the young Speaker is a... very pretty, very young man. Ah.

Trevor releases the kid and then scratches at the back of his head. Well. _Shit_. "Right, whatever," he then decides. "Where did you read those books, Arn?"

"The warehouse," Arn says, tucking at his cloak, lifting the collar up and not meeting Trevor's eyes.

"Books?" Alucard asks tensely.

"The forbidden books about Sleeper stories confiscated by the church he read in secret using his illicitly acquired talent of reading, which apparently is forbidden for Speakers," Trevor shrugs and looks away. Alucard though – shit, maybe Arn thought too? Well, Trevor is an excommunicant, maybe it's fucking expected from heretics like him, but shit... what the fuck is he supposed to do with this?

"Book of Speaker stories?" Alucard asks

"Yes – well, story of the Sleeping Soldier written, I think, many years ago by some scholar of Gresit," Arn says. "I – my reading isn't good, but I could understand enough of it to be interested in the title. It was... important to our work here."

"And I'm guessing you then couldn't share this information, because then you'd have to admit how you got it," Trevor guesses.

"I shared as much as I could without revealing my sources – that is how we found our ways into the catacombs in the first place," Arn admits. "I knew it was the way to the Sleeper, though it obviously wasn't quite enough."

Alucard looks at him, then at Trevor. Then, slowly, he releases his grip on the sword. "I see," he says.

Trevor clears his throat, as the misunderstanding settles between them, heavy. Fuck, this is why he avoids people – everyone fucking assumes shit. "Right," Trevor says and looks at Arn. "How about you show us to the warehouse where you found the book – and then to the Bishop's house?"

"Right, yes, of course," Arn says and clears his throat. "This way."

He all but flees ahead of them, leaving Trevor sharing a wonderfully tense moment with still suspicious vampire.

Alucard, judging by the looks of it, isn't quite sure what to say.

"What was that about protecting people's honour, hm?" Trevor asks then and folds his arms.

"You..." Alucard starts to say and then seems to think better of it. He shakes his head instead. "Let's go," he says and turns to follow Arn.

"You really think I'm that low, don't you?" Trevor asks after him, and fuck, why does that sting? Why the hell does he even care – Alucard is a fucking vampire! The whole thing is more fucked than Bosha's goat. Shit.

Alucard stops and bows his head a little. "Perhaps I too harbour prejudices," he admits. "It's... no slight upon you, even if you act like a barbarian."

Trevor blinks and then tilts his head to the side. And then it dawns on him.

Alucard is a ridiculously pretty young man too, isn't he?

"Aww, fuck this," Trevor mutters and spits on the street. "Forget it, alright?"

"I'm –" Alucard starts to say tensely.

" _Forget it_ ," Trevor snaps and walks past him. "Come on. We have book to find."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fixed the tags. Also we are heading off to the land of Stuff I'm Making Up As I Go.


	4. Chapter 4

It's a weird thing, to see the cathedral of Gresit in ruins. Granted, most of Gresit itself is in ruins, but the Cathedral had stood for something and though Trevor has long since stuck his middle finger at God and his house... there is a power in churches that is hard to deny. Power and protection.

Whether Gresit had survived as long as it had under the onslaught of the nighthorde because of the cathedral is up for debate, but there is no doubt that the cathedral had given it at least the illusion of security. Big old building like that, that's no doubt stood over Gresit for decades, which has offered its looming guardianship over the city probably longer than anyone there has even lived... it gives an illusion of shelter.

Now it's gone, it's a pile old smoking rubble, and the people feel it. The Bishop had been up the walls and drag his ass on the ceiling level of insane, maybe, but he and his priest aides, his religious little attack dogs, had probably given the people some faint hope of... of being able to survive the raids, if not being fully save from them. And now that rug is pulled out from under everyone.

Gresit is doomed, Trevor has no doubt about that. And the cathedral and it's fucked up priesthood had probably only stalled that doom when they'd been around, but at least they'd done that much. Now...

"It burned from the inside," Alucard comments, as they look upon the ruins.

"Hm?" Trevor asks, picking at his ear.

"Look at those pillars, that wall over there? The scorch marks are on the inside. Whatever destroyed it not only made its way inside while the building still stood, but could damage it," the vampire says and glances at Trevor. "This building was not holy."

Trevor scoffs, even as sudden bitter taste bubbles in his throat. "Well, that's no fucking surprise," he says and waves a dismissive hand at the pile of rubble. "The bishop here was on a whole new level of fucked up, a batshit insane _zealot_. Not really surprising that he got the whole... religious part of it wrong."

"Hm," Alucard answers and looks at the remains of the cathedral. "And he was the one who burned my mother the stake?"

"So he claimed," Trevor agrees and folds his arms. "He had his men drag me in here to send me off like the naughty little excommunicant I am – told me he was aide to the Archbishop, that he arranged the whole thing."

Alucard doesn't say anything for a moment. Trevor lets him have that moment – fuck, he'd needed a moment too, and Vampire or not, he can sympathize with that at least. In the meanwhile Arn lingers near by, awkward and uneasy but apparently resigned to his duty of waiting on them.

"You are excommunicated," Alucard then says, glancing at Trevor.

"Yeah," Trevor agrees and looks up to the sky. Moon is peeking past the shredded clouds, casting feeble light on them. It's almost pretty, except for the miasma of death and the curl of smoke slowly drifting upwards from the city. "We were all excommunicated."

Alucard hums and then steps onto the ruins of the cathedral. Not even a twinge of discomfort is seen – and Vampires, Trevor knows, are pretty damn weak to churches. There really is... nothing here.

"Do you think the bishop survived?" Alucard asks.

"Why?" Trevor tilts his head to the side, watching him carefully. "So you can take revenge on him?" Alucard doesn't answer and Trevor shrugs. "No, I don't," he says. "It's obvious that the cathedral was targeted and if that mad bastard had lived, we would've heard from him by now."

"I suppose we would have," the vampire muses, resting his hand on his sword grip for a moment before turning back. "The warehouse now."

Arn stands to attention. "Right this way," he says and motions them to follow nervously.

Trevor spends a moment longer, looking at the ruins. Less than couple of days ago he'd been hauled in and the cathedral had stood massive and imposing over it, all gleaming stone and waxed pews, grandiose and strong. And as much as he hated it, as much as church made him sick.... he'd felt the power there. It had been, for a moment, intimidating.

Funny, how all that was just architecture in the end.

Shaking his head, Trevor turns to follow Alucard and Arn, as the young Speaker leads them away from the ruins of the cathedral. "Funny, how no one has so much as picked through all that," he comments. They hadn't even tried to get the bodies out, judging by the smell.

"Demons burned the cathedral," Arn says uneasily. "The people dare not touch it now."

"The fact that demons burned it does not make unholy anymore than the fact that priests resided in it made it holy," Alucard says wryly.

"That may be," Arn says. "But maybe it is for the best. The church did not do much good here."

Is that resentment in his voice, Trevor wonders with amusement. "Well it doesn't really matter one way or the other," he says. "Unless the nighthorde stops coming, and it won't."

"Hmm," Alucard says, noncommittal.

"What?" Trevor asks with a scowl.

"Dracula's orders to the nighthorde... were to go to all the cities of Wallachia," the vampire says and glances over his shoulder at the ruins. "And you cannot by any stretch of imagination say Gresit has a cathedral left, can you?"

Trevor blinks and then looks back at the pile of rubble. "Oh," he says in realization. "That's... splitting hairs, don't you think?"

"Demons can be a very literal when it comes to the orders they receive. They do not obey gladly," Alucard comments and then shakes his head. "Of course, they might continue their attack simply because the feel like it. It is not as if Dracula's orders to them are not something they enjoy. But then they might not, just to slight him."

Trevor frowns. "I guess we'll see, if the nighthorde comes again."

"I don't understand," Arn says, looking between them. "Why would the nighthorde stop now, when they are winning?"

"Gresit isn't a city anymore," Trevor shrugs. "Without a cathedral it's just a big town with a wall."

Arn blinks at that and the looks ahead, looking thoughtful. "I see."

"I would not entertain hope yet, however," Alucard says. "As I said, demons are as fickle as they are literal. But... there is a minute chance they might move on from here."

Trevor scratches at his neck, where dried patch of something is peeling off. "You know, they don't harass the smaller towns and villages much," he says. "There's the occasional monster, a stray demon or two, but not the nighthorde."

"No," Alucard agrees. "Those were not in their orders."

"Hmm," Trevor hums.

If they fail and the night horde raids never stop... would cities eventually all die out? No more cathedral, no more grand castles – just smaller towns and villages, spread out and safe in their sheer unimportant? If some foreign bastard decided to attack Wallachia now...

Well, Wallachia is infected with demons. Who the hell would want the land now?

"The warehouse," Arn says and motions ahead.

Trevor looks ahead. It's not so much a warehouse as it is a prison – a sturdy old stone box with bars on the windows. It might've even been a prison, at some point – before the government died out, the church got free reign and started killing people for every slight, as opposed to detaining them.

"Hm," Alucard says. "It does not seem it has been attacked."

"Or burned," Trevor agrees and looks to Arn. "How did you get inside?"

"Sewers lead in from under – I got in that way," Arn admits. "I was exploring the upper levels of the catacombs."

"Hmm... Well, I for one have spent enough time in the piss drains of Gresit," Trevor says with a snort. "Let's see if we can knock a door down instead."

It turns out they don't need to – someone had already broken in, and they'd left the door ajar, its lock broken.

"By repeated blows with something metal," Trevor muses, eyeing the padlock. "I think a shovel."

"Do you think they took the book?" Arn asks worriedly.

"Let's find out," Alucard says, gripping his sword.

They head inside. It's pitch black inside, but thankfully there's candles near by, half burnt but still usable. Trevor lights them and they share the light around until they can see in the dark place – and it turns out, the building really was a prison. There are cells there, now filled with boxes and grates and what look like broken barrels, with racks of weapons and piles of what look like tapestries.

"Well now," Trevor murmurs and bends down to pick up a bottle on the floor. Its cork is missing and the contents have mostly spilled on the floor, but there's still something inside it. "The church confiscated alcohol, did they?"

"Occasionally," Arn agrees. "As punishment, I think – I heard a tavern had their whole stock confiscated. I think I saw the barrels here before."

"That explains the break in," Alucard says, pushing a cell door open and examining one of the grates. "Whoever broke in here certainly did not care for the rest in here, at any rate. And there are no barrels here now."

"Chances are they were looking for food too," Trevor muses and peers into the bottle. There's bugs crawled inside, of course there is. One or two he could've handled – but the bottle is full of them. "What a waste," he mutters and drops the bottle back onto the floor.

Alucard glances at him and then rolls his eyes. "Where did you find the book?" he asks, turning to the Speaker.

"This way – all the books are here," Arn says nervously, and then leads them on, to another cell, this one with a haphazardly piled mound of books in it.

Judging by the looks of it, the church had confiscated not just specific books they didn't agree with – but just about all of them. At a glance Trevor can see histories, books of medicine, fairy tales for children... anything and everything, except Bibles.

Well, with that mad fucking lunatic running the show, it almost makes sense. Deprive the people of anything that they might as momentary escape from reality, and shove the word of God down their throats instead.

"It was here," Arn says, motioning at one of the cells. "I – there were barrels here, I hid it behind them."

"Well, no barrels here anymore," Trevor says.

"Let's hope the book isn't missing as well," Alucard says and steps into the cell to look for it. "What was the title of the book? What colour was it?"

"Green, I think, and the title was the Legends of Gresit, and something I couldn't read," Arn admits.

"Well, it's a start," Trevor says and steps into the cell as well. "Let's pile up all the green books and go from there."

It looks like a lot of books at first. But as they go through them, Alucard piles them up neatly, one top of another, neatening the mess as he goes – and it turns out, it's not that many books after all. The Belmont library had had ten times as many books.

It's... kind of sad. A whole city's worth of books, and it only amounts to so much.

"Did they burn books?" Trevor asks quietly, eyeing one book – it's a hand written manual about mushrooms, with illustrations and everything. Apparently mushrooms are sacrilegious.

"Yes, occasionally," Arn agrees.

Alucard hums and examines another green book before setting it down on top of another pile. "Let's hope they didn't yet burn this one."

It takes a while to go through all the books. Trevor finds a book of legends, but it's legends from ancient Rome and not particularly useful for them. There's another about the Orient, again not very useful.

"Shit," he mutters, once they've gone through them all and have nothing to show for it.

"Here," Alucard says and holds up one book for Arn to inspect. "Is it this one?"

"Y-yes that's it!" Arn says, his eyes lighting up. "That's the book, I'm sure of it."

It has the words, the Legends of Gresit – Transcribed Oral History. And it's not green, turns out. The thing is yellow.

"Hm," Alucard says and opens it. "It will take some time to read through this."

"Well at least we found the damn thing," Trevor says and stands up, his knees popping. "Should we check the bishop's house?"

Alucard considers that and then closes the book again. "Yes," he decides. "It certainly wouldn't hurt, to find out more."

"I can show you the place," Arn says. "But I will not go inside. Even if the bishop is dead, I do not want to break into his house."

"If somebody hasn't already broken in, I'll be surprised," Trevor says and takes the candle he'd set on the floor, blowing it out. "But fine, whatever. Let's just get going."

Unsurprisingly, the Bishop's manor house is extravagant as all hell. All polished brass and perfectly smooth windows, implacable paint and not a hint of damage to its roof. It's also not empty.

"Who are you?" a maid demands while brandishing a coal poker at them. "Not a step further – this is the house of the Bishop of Gresit and I will not let you step one foot inside it, you hear?"

She looks harangued and tired, with shadows under her eyes and blood on her skirts. Apparently she'd been defending the fort for a while.

"Are there any other staff left in the manor?" Alucard asks.

"Yeah, you bet, there's hundreds of us, and armed guards too, so don't you think of it, don't you even think!" she says, waving the poker.

"It's just her," Trevor says.

"Mm," Alucard agrees, considering the woman. "We are not after the manor, or any valuables inside. All we want is to look through the records your master left behind."

"You will not step a foot in here!" she says and waves the poker again. "I'll hit you; I'll knock your brains out!"

"That's not very hospitable of you, is it?" Trevor says and then steps forward. The maid lets out a shriek and swings the poker with all her might at him. Catching the thing _stings_. Trevor grits his teeth against the rattling pain racing down his arm and then grips the poker by the shaft and pushes it at her, hard. It knocks her back a little and off balance and quickly Trevor wrenches the poker back, sending her even more off balance, forcing her to release the poker in order to catch herself on the ground instead.

"There," Trevor says with satisfaction, and throws the poker away. "We're coming in now. Excuse me..."

Alucard shakes his head with a sigh, and then steps past the maid even as she hurries to her feet. She lets out a noise, furious, but hesitates – not quite so willing to defend the manor inside it against two men already breaking in, apparently. Smart woman.

"That was quite rude of you," Alucard comments.

"I'm a rude man," Trevor agrees, shaking his stinging hand and then grabs a candelabrum from nearby table. Shit the house is even fancier inside. "I take left wing, you take the right?"

"Certainly," Alucard says, also taking a candle with him. "Do shout for me if you find anything useful."

"Sure," Trevor promises with a snort. "I'll do that, no problem."

Alucard shakes his head at that and then heads off. Trevor glances after him and then heads the other way.

Belmonts had had a mansion too, a great one in what passed for country side in that corner of the country. They'd had gardens and vineyards, small army of servants, and by anyone's reckoning they'd been wealthy, spoiled.

Trevor's home had nothing on this place, though. This place is all but gold plated.

There are paintings on the walls with golden picture frames. There are statues, there are armour stands, all polished and gleaming in candle light. The floors have carpets and walls have tapestries, and every single window is shaded by heavy curtains that reach the floor. The chandeliers aren't just silver – they have crystals hanging off them. And every fucking where there are crosses on the walls.

Outside the people of Gresit wallow in literal shit, while in here the great and gracious Bishop of Gresit lived in his perfect abode of luxury. Truly, the natural order of things.

There are hints that the place wasn't originally owned or even furbished by the bishop, though. It looks like the house of a noble, really – the former head of Gresit, maybe, the one who died in the raids? Might have even been someone richer than that.

Trevor considers one cross on the wall, a golden one, and then takes it down, examining it. Brass with gold plating, judging by the weight.

Wonder if Alucard was having any issues with all of it.

"Whatever," Trevor mutters and drops the stupidly elaborate thing onto the floor, and continues on his search. Hopefully there'd be a library, a study or something like that to narrow the search – because the sooner he gets out of this fucking place, the better.

He doesn't find a study, or even a library – what he finds are bedrooms, a sitting room, and a cabinet full of expensive looking bottles.

Really, the clergymen of Gresit – apparently not a single one of them had ever heard of the notion of practicing what they preached.

* * *

 

"Why am I even bothering to be surprised?" is the first thing Alucard says when Trevor finds him.

"I don't know; naive stupidity and foolish belief in the goodness of humanity?" Trevor asks, resting the bottle of _really_ good wine on the desk. Alucard had found the study, apparently – and of course he'd not bothered to call. Well, Trevor hadn't really expected him to. "Find anything?"

"Quite bit of nonsense," Alucard says and closes the book he'd been reading. A journal, judging by the looks of it. "You were right about the good bishop. He was... quite insane."

"Mmhmm," Trevor agrees and plops down to sit on the good bishop's very fine desk. "Lovely reading, I bet."

"Not very useful though," the vampire says and leans back on the bishop's fine chair. "Mostly it is only about his own righteousness and how utterly sinful everyone else is. He's written quite the treatise on the Archbishop himself – if he could have, I suspect he would've burned the man as a heretic. It's all nonsense."

"Yeah, I figured," Trevor says and looks at the shelves. Religious texts all of it judging by the looks of it. "Nothing on Dracula?"

"Only countless affirmations about how he is the devil himself and how the bishop was right in denying him," Alucard says and shakes his head. "Did you find anything?"

Trevor shakes his head. "Some good wine, but that's about it," he says. "I'm guessing the book of legends is our best bet."

Alucard nods in agreement. "I will read it tonight; hopefully there will be something useful on it. And you, I suppose," he casts a look at the bottle. "Are planning to find yourself a ditch to wallow in."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Trevor agrees with a smile.

Alucard scoffs at him. "Do you have any idea what continuous, unchecked consumption of alcohol does to a human being?"

"Do you have any idea how little I care?"

The vampire eyes him coolly. "Fine," he says. "I suppose it is no business of mine if you wish to drink yourself to death. I would rather you did it after we find and defeat my father, but I figure that is asking too much of you."

Trevor frowns at that. "Why the hell do you care?" he asks. "Does it befoul my blood? Because if so ..."

"I don't care about your blood," Alucard answers and stands up, pushing the chair back as he does. "I do not drink blood unwillingly given and yours I imagine never will be, therefore, it is a non issue.

"You don't drink blood – that's some load of shit," Trevor mutters and points a finger at him. "I saw that contraption of a coffin of yours – there were big bottles of blood on it. It was giving you blood all the time, wasn't it? And if you try and tell me that didn't come from a human – "

"Willingly given," Alucard says sharply. "All of it."

"Bullshit," Trevor says with a scoff. "Why would anyone give blood willingly to a fucking vampire?"

"Because I paid them for it," Alucard says. "Because I fed them afterwards."

"Pft, yeah I bet that was very useful for them before they died," Trevor snorts. "Well I guess they died rich, dream of every man of the land."

Alucard glares at him. "None of them died," he says. "Not in my care."

"Well then they died afterwards, whoop de fucking do," Trevor says, waving a dismissive hand. "You don't survive a vampire's bite, no one does. They _died_ , maybe turned into ghouls if they were lucky, but death is a death even if you're shambling around afterwards."

"I did not bite them."

Trevor glares at him. "What?

"I did not _bite_ them," Alucard repeats through gritted teeth, fangs flashing. "There are many ways of taking someone's blood. A bite is... ultimately not very efficient. And as you said, the side effects are lethal."

Trevor frowns a bit, trying to wrap his mind around it. The alcohol is already having bit of an effect, turns out. "So you – strung them up and cut their necks?"

"I did not kill them, and I certainly did not use a _blade on_ them," the vampire says with increasing frustration. "There are humane ways – my mother devised them for us -"

"Your mother – your witch mother?" Trevor asks dubiously.

"My mother the medical scientist, the _doctor_ ," Alucard hisses and then takes a calming breath. "I did no harm. Her methods are kind, they do no injury, they cause no infection. People from whom I bought the blood from were perfectly fine afterwards and I assure you, they did not die because of my actions."

Trevor stares at him for a long moment, not sure why he's even doubting it. Alucard is a vampire, of course he's lying, and of course they died. But... he sounds so damn vehement – and frustrated in that infuriating, helpless way Trevor knows so fucking well. The frustration of trying to defend yourself from accusations you know are false, but also know no one will ever believe otherwise.

"I'll believe it," Trevor says slowly, "when I see it."

Alucard breathes in and out slowly and then looks at him seriously. "Then I will show you," he says and relaxes his clenched fists. "In the morning, after I have read the book. Eat a healthy breakfast – and _no_ _more wine_."

"What?" Trevor asks sharply.

"Or do you want one of the Speakers to demonstrate?" Alucard asks sharply.

Trevor opens his mouth and then just lets out a noise of frustration. "Fine," he says through gritted teeth. "But you'll do it with my fucking whip around your neck."

Alucard looks him over disdainfully and then turns away. "Agreed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno if the whole thing about cathedrals and cities is historically accurate for Wallachia, probably not, but it kinda fit for this so I went for it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bloodletting and blood drinking in this chapter, but you probably already knew that

Eat a healthy breakfast, his ass.

Trevor watches from the side as Alucard leafs through the book, reading it not at any considerable speed – if anything, he seems to be taking his sweet ass time with the pages. Trevor's gonna have to read it himself – in fact, he is planning to – but judging by the way Alucard goes about it, he's not as much reading it as he is absorbing it, probably fucking memorising it.

Eat a healthy breakfast – what the hell is _healthy_? And in Gresit, of all places. The place has been besieged for who even knows how long, and from what Trevor has seen all they have is stale beer, wine, and salted dry meat. The healthiest he's eaten there was the grass soup the Speakers made, probably. Healthy breakfast his ass.

"Where did you get that book?" Sypha asks, sitting beside Trevor in order to not bother Alucard's little studies.

Trevor glances at her, and not at Arn who has very guiltily avoided them the whole time since they came back. "The church confiscated it at some point – we found it while going through their stuff," he shrugs. "Seemed interesting – might have something to do with your little Sleeping Soldier myth."

Sypha nods, smoothing her hands over her robe hem, easing out the wrinkles. "Belmont," she starts to say and then bows her head. "We have to leave Gresit, don't we?"

"Well I don't see Dracula's castle anywhere near here, do you, Sypha?" Trevor sighs and reaches back to bundle up his cloak behind him to offer a little better cushion. The Speaker's had cleaned it up, washed the hem and everything – it smells _weird_ now. "Since apparently that place under our asses isn't connected."

She nods, looking at her hands.

"You know you don't have to come," Trevor says. "Screw your stupid legends – they can't make your decisions for you. Stay here if you like. Or better yet, leave and go someplace safer."

Sypha shakes her head. "My goal, our goal, is to put an end to the attacks, to stop the nighthorde. Stop Dracula," she says and takes a deep breath. "When you go there, I will come with you. It is decided. It's just that..."

She looks to the Speakers, gathered around in the other side of the room, talking among themselves. They're telling stories to each other.

"They'll just get in the way," Trevor says and folds his arms over his chest, relaxing against the wall, his head sinking into the fur of his cloak. "And get themselves killed."

Sypha casts him a frown and then looks down. "Yes," she then says. "I would not chance any one of them against what we fought in the square. But I... have never travelled without them."

Trevor looks at her, takes in the minute blush on her cheeks. She's embarrassed – and probably a little scared. And why wouldn't she? A young woman, travelling with two men like Trevor and Alucard. A drunken lout – and proud of it – and a vampire. Shit, Trevor himself would have some doubts.

"Well," Trevor says. "We'll throw some dirt on you, trim your hair, you'll wear your hood more often, and you'll make a passable boy. And if the vampire tries something, I'll take his head off."

"Belmont," Sypha says, her voice low and admonishing. "He wouldn't. I know he wouldn't."

"No you don't. I don't either," Trevor says and looks to Alucard, who is delicately turning a page. Funny, how he sat down just so that he was in the candle light – as if he _needs_ the light. "He's a vampire, it's in their nature. He might act like noble of some bygone era, but he's still a bloodsucker."

Bloodsucker who, by morning, would be sucking Trevor's blood. Fuck why the hell had he agreed to that?

"I do not think he is like that," Sypha says firmly. Then she casts a sly look towards him. "Besides, if anyone has to be worried, it's you."

Trevor glances at her. "Tch," he mutters. So Alucard told her about the upcoming bloodletting.

"And you do not seem very worried," Sypha says, smiling a little. "So I doubt I need to be either."

Fuck worried, Trevor is fucking terrified.

"Right," he says and looks at Alucard. "Why are you, then?" he asks Sypha.

She looks at him and then away, indecisive. Right.

"How good are you with magic?" Trevor asks then.

"I am... best among us," Sypha admits, but she squeezes her hands into fists on her knees. "But there are limits to how much I can manage."

"Could you really have incinerated Alucard?"

She blushes. "Maybe," she admits embarrassedly.

"Well then you can probably definitely incinerate me," Trevor shrugs. "Save some of your strength for that, and I think you have nothing to worry about." Not that she does anyway. Fuck what Alucard thinks – Trevor isn't that low.

Sypha looks at him through her gently curling hair and then looks down again, biting her lip. Jesus fucking Christ, she is _so_ young. Stubborn and headstrong, but so young.

"You know, those Catacombs under us," Trevor says, to change the subject, and looks at Alucard again. "They are old, right? Easily decades if not hundreds of years old."

"Mm, they did seem to be old," Sypha agrees.

"The woman who was burned at the stake, Dracula's wife – that was Alucard's mother, right? How old do you suppose she was?"

"No older than fifty, perhaps not even as old as forty," Sypha says thoughtfully. "I wasn't there, but I heard – she was quite young, and quite beautiful."

"But fully human."

"I think so, yes," she agrees and looks at him. "What is this about, Belmont?"

"I'm just wondering – how old would that make him?" Trevor says, nodding to Alucard. "And how is it, that someone whose mother has lived less than half a century, made something that was built hundreds of years ago?"

Sypha frowns a little, obviously trying to puzzle it out, making Trevor wonder if mathematics are against the ways of the Speakers too. She probably can't read or write, after all – which might also mean she doesn't know her numbers. How far could you get with counting, without writing it all down?

"Perhaps the catacombs weren't build by him," Sypha says finally. "You said, they look like what Dracula's castle looks like. Perhaps he built them."

Trevor considers that and scratches at his cheek. The scar is pulling at his skin again – must be rain coming. "I don't know," he says. "Alucard crawled his way there to hide from what I could tell. I doubt he would've done that if his dear old dad knew about the place."

"Hmm," Sypha says and then looks at him. "You could just _ask_ him."

"Ugh," Trevor answers and leans his head back.

Sypha smiles a little and then shifts so that her weight isn't on her knees. "Tell me about Dracula's castle, what your great grandfather told you about it?" she asks. "We Speakers know some, but we don't know what it is really like on the inside."

"My great grandfather told me nothing – he was long dead by the time I was born," Trevor says and shrugs. "I read it from the books he wrote." And from the books written by every other Belmonts, who'd set a foot on Dracula's castle.

After Dracula's little proclamation in Targoviste, the reason of which no one bothered to share with the Belmonts of course, they'd started going through their old books, researching Dracula and the means of fighting him. There were many books they had on the subject, with descriptions, sometimes even with illustrations. Lot of Belmonts had gotten tangled with Dracula over the centuries, it turns out.

What Trevor wouldn't do to have those books now.

"It's never the same," Trevor says. "Everyone knows it moves around, but it also changes between iterations. It's been destroyed, you know, a few times now, and when it comes back it's always a little different. Rooms move, sometimes corridors lead nowhere."

Belmonts always drew a map – and it was never useful for the next poor sod who had to go in.

Sypha watches him silently, listening closely.

Trevor clears his throat. "It looks like what we saw down in the catacombs. Old, new, clean, foreign, strange. There are sewers with water so clean you can drink it, towers with no stairs, machinery for purposes no one knows the reason for... and monsters behind every fucking corner," he says. "It isn't like an actual castle, none of it makes logical sense. It's more like set of trials."

"That is because it is designed to be a trial."

Trevor looks up, at Alucard now standing over them.

"My father could very easily make the castle impenetrable – but that does not serve his purpose," the vampire says, and holds the closed book. "I have finished reading this."

"And?" Trevor asks, accepting the book. "Was it any use?"

Alucard takes a breath and then releases it. "We will find the castle up north – near village of Lupu."

Trevor gives him a look at the strange tone he says it in and then shrugs his shoulder – he doesn't really care. "Alright, wonderful – I have no idea where that is."

"I do," Alucard says and bows his head a little. Then he shakes his head and looks at Trevor. "Have you eaten?"

"Eaten _what_?" Trevor mutters and shoves the book under his tunic – he'll read it later.

Alucard sighs in irritation and throws hair over his shoulder. "You will eat, you will drink _water_ and you will bathe," he says, reaching to take something from inside his long coat. "And once you have, I will meet you here."

That said, the vampire throws a coin purse at him, which Trevor catches midair. It's... pretty heavy.

"I don't want your _money_ ," Trevor spits and makes to throw the purse back.

"Use it to find an Inn with a bath and then make a use of the said bath," Alucard says and turns away before Trevor can lob the thing back at him. "This was your idea, remember?"

Trevor glares at the vampire. Then, curiosity getting better of him, he eases the purse open and peers inside. It's not... copper. It's not even silver.

Alucard just threw a small fortune's worth of _gold_ at him.

Sypha leans in to look, her eyes widening as well. "Why does he want you to bathe?" she asks slowly.

"Because he's a prissy little princess and apparently my manly musk puts him off his dinner," Trevor mutters, still staring a little wide eyed at the gold.

He hasn't even seen this much money since the ancestral house was burned to the ground. Shit. _Shit_.

It makes him feel not just a little bit like fucking kept woman but... by god it's tempting. It's been weeks since he ran into a brook clean enough to wash in – months since he had an actual honest to fucking god _bath_. With soap. With this... he could actually get a heated bath. And some proper food. He could get actual fucking full course _dinner_.

For a moment two sides fight inside Trevor – one who wants _nothing_ from Alucard, and one that doesn't want to look the gift horse in the mouth. Except, under all of that, he knows the gift horse has fucking fangs.

"Ugh," Trevor grunts and runs a hand over his face. Fuck. Bath and maybe even respite from the ever present gnawing hunger... or his principles.

"Belmont?" Sypha asks worriedly.

"... what fucking principles?" Trevor sighs and gets up – and then he goes to find himself the most expensive bath the ruins of Gresit can offer.

And if he takes his time in the bathtub of half collapsed Inn, whose matron is _utterly delighted_ to serve him – and his gold – and who happily keeps his water blissfully hot, well… that's his business.

* * *

Alucard is talking with Sypha and the Elder when Trevor comes back, his hair damp and new patch on his tunic – courtesy of the Inn matron who had been happy to offer that extra service free of charge.

"Could not bother to shave?" Alucard comments while the Elder arches his eyebrows and Sypha tilts her head curiously.

"There's limits to how far I'm willing to primp and preen for you," Trevor grunts and spreads out his arms. "I'm clean, I'm fed, I'm fucking watered. Let's do this damn thing."

Alucard hums in agreement and gets up, pushing his hair back as he goes. "Very well."

"Do what?" the Elder asks worriedly, while Sypha too stands up.

"What are you going to do?" Sypha asks, looking a little alarmed.

"Something wildly stupid," Trevor mutters, resting a hand on his whip as he faces Alucard.

Alucard motions him to follow, taking something from his coat as he goes – long, flat silver case. "Sit," the vampire says, motioning to one of the few chairs in the rundown house.

With a grimace Trevor throws his cloak over the back of the chair. Before sitting down, however, he grips his whip, loosening it from its coil, and turns to Alucard.

The vampire eyes him coolly and then lifts his chin slightly – as good as invitation. It's pretty graceful and Trevor could be nice about this, he could do it by hand.

But he's not feeling particularly nice.

"Belmont, what on earth are you _doing_?!" Sypha cries, as Trevor grabs the whip by near the end of the throng and then lashes out with it's cracker at Alucard.

It's a weak blow, though, barely any force around it – the cracker wraps around Alucard's throat firmly, but not tightly. While Alucard let's out a sharp breath through clenched teeth, Trevor steps closer and winds an finger under the whip around his neck, just to check – it's not tight enough to constrict his breathing.

Alucard's skin is cool against the back of his knuckle. Inhumanly cool.

The vampire's eyes _glow_ with annoyance, but he doesn't do anything about the whip around his neck. "Now sit," he says. motioning to the chair.

Trevor sits, keeping the whip tight in his hand. One wrong move, and he'd strangle the damn monster.

Alucard takes a breath and then, while the Speakers hover around them worriedly, he goes down on his knees beside the chair. Trevor frowns, watching him as he opens the silver case. Inside there is a small bottle of clear liquid, a wad of snow-white cloth, a thin glass tube and several... thin spikes?

"What is that?" Trevor asks, gripping the whip tighter. He'd been expecting a blade, not a spike.

"A hollow needle," Alucard says. "May I have a glass, please?" he asks the Speakers and frowning the Elder motions someone to get one.

And of course somehow, after all this time of being utterly unable to provide anything remotely drinkable in this shithole of a house.... they manage to find a fucking wine glass.

"Thank you," Alucard says, looking the glass over and then setting it down. "Pull up your sleeve past your elbow – I need your arm bared."

Trevor eyes him suspiciously for a moment before doing as asked, pushing the sleeve up and bundling it above his elbow, but keeping a firm grip of the whip as he does. Alucard nods, and then takes the small bottle from the silver case, and the wad of cloth – and as Trevor and the Speakers watch with confusion, he douses the cloth in whatever is in the clear bottle.

It smells like vodka, but... sharper.

"This will clean the impurities on your skin," Alucard says. "It is to prevent infection."

"Are you fucking kidding me," Trevor mutters and then makes a face as Alucard starts actually fucking washing his arm with the thing. Or, not his arm – the skin just under the bend of his elbow.

"You are doing a bloodletting?" the Speaker Elder asks with confusion.

"Belmont wanted a demonstration," Alucard says and looks up at Trevor, his eyes gleaming. His eyelashes, Trevor notes, are ridiculously long.

"Kind of regretting it now," Trevor grunts but holds his arm still for Alucard to fucking mop it with the... potion or what ever it is he's using. The vampire is certainly not hurrying it up a bit, spending good long time at it. It makes his skin tingle weirdly.

Then apparently the purifying process is done, because Alucard sets the cloth back down into the case, and takes the needle-spike instead. And it's a weird soft of needle – it has some sort of... stopper mechanism at the other end.

"I am going to put this into your arm now," Alucard says. "Are you ready?"

"No," Trevor spits. "Just get on with it."

"Make a fist," Alucard says, and then lays his left hand on Trevor's bare arm, holding it steady. And then his eyes bleed from pale gold into vivid blood red.

Trevor almost yanks his arm back – it jerks in Alucard's hold before the vampire grips him by the wrist, keeping it steady.

"A human would need a tourniquet to do this," the vampire says, his voice low, almost a growl. "But I can see your veins."

There is the _barest_ pinch of pain – and the next thing Trevor knows, the needle is in his arm, sliding smoothly under the skin. It feels... like nothing, really, after that pinch – there is a needle stuck in his arm, and it doesn't even hurt. It's just a weird weight, a sort of tug, as if someone is pulling at his skin from under it.

Alucard lets go of his wrist and goes for the glass. As Trevor watches, now with mix of morbid fascination, he holds the glass under the needles strange stopper, and releases the mechanism.

The force with which the blood begins to pour out is a little startling. Within couple of seconds it pools at the bottom of the glass.

"Relax your fingers and then squeeze them again – and then repeat," Alucard says, watching the glass calmly, his eyes fading back to pale gold.

"Belmont," Sypha says. "Does it hurt?"

Trevor doesn't take his eyes off the needle, the pour of his own blood, the glass, slowly being filled. After a moment, he is forced to shake his head. "It... doesn't really feel like anything," he says and looks at Alucard. "Your mother came up with this?"

"Yes. She had the benefit of knowledge most people do not have access to, and a driving urge to come up with a method of bloodletting that would be safe," Alucard says and glances up. "She refused to let a son of hers kill, even for survival. And I have not."

Trevor opens his fingers and then squeezes them back to a fist. Between them, the wineglass fills, and once it is near to the top, Alucard eases the strange stopper back to the needle. The blood flow stops, and gently Alucard sets the glass down, taking the wad of cloth instead, pressing it where the needle meets Trevor's skin.

Then the needle is gone, the whole business of bloodletting done.

"That's it?" Trevor asks incredulously.

"That is it, yes," the vampire says. "Hold the cloth there for a minute or two."

Trevor eyes him for a moment and then, instead of reaching for the cloth, he reaches over to tug the whip from around Alucard's neck. The vampire exhales softly and meets his eyes silently. Trevor lets the whip fall to the floor in order to put pressure on the tiny little puncture mark that had just lost him a half a pint of blood and looks down on it. Even now it feels like nothing. Jesus _Christ_.

Alucard turns to the silver case, ignoring the wine glass of blood beside him and instead going about cleaning the needle. He takes the thin glass tube and fills it with the purifying potion, before setting the needle in it, stirring it inside for a moment. Then he sets it down amidst the others, refastening the stopper of the purifying potion and packing his bloodletting tools away again.

Trevor watches him from the corner of his eyes. "Well?" he asks.

"What?" Alucard asks, casting a frown at him.

"I didn't just bleed out a half a pint of blood for fucking nothing," Trevor mutters and looks away. "Drink the damn thing."

Alucard stares at him silently for a moment before looking down on the wine glass. Around them the Speakers are all staring in a kind of a horrified fascination, as Alucard finally takes the wine glass. Trevor swallows, looks at him and meets his eyes.

It's all his nightmares come true. A vampire drinking his blood. And it's fucking _mesmerising_ , watching Alucard's Adam's apple bob up and down as he drains the glass, filling his belly with _Trevor's blood_ , holy fucking _hell_.

Alucard's lips are blood red when he stops and as he draws a slightly shuddering breath his fangs gleam bloodstained.

"You really," Alucard says, his voice a low, rumbling growl, "need to drink more water."

Trevor laughs, shaky and rattled. "Oh, fuck you. Why the hell did you make me fucking bathe when all you needed was my damn arm?" he asks.

"Because, Belmont, you _stink_ ," the vampire says and stands up. He sways a little. "And you were going to put me off my dinner."

Trevor almost chokes on his laughter. Christ, what an asshole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna casually lift the rating a bit...


	6. Chapter 6

Trevor doesn't bother to read through the whole book of Legends of Gresit – just leafing through to the chapter about the Sleeping Soldier and even then skimming through most of it. The text is flowery and elaborate, and it reads more like a fairytale than prophesy – not that that would've made it better, really. At least fairytales get their message across – Prophesies just sort of idly sidle along their point before getting distracted by how great they are, most of the time.

The story is not overly complicated. It talks about Dracula's history – which by the time the book was written was already well known enough to be history, apparently. The stuff about Dracula's castle is mostly nonsense from what Trevor can tell – so whoever wrote the thing never set a foot inside. And Trevor isn't so sure about the location either, because as far as the story goes, the castle has apparently always been up north, near village of Lupu, looming over the village, its dark, silent guardian... which anyone with any sense knows is not true.

Trevor has never even heard of the village of Lupu and considering the time Belmont family had spend gleaning through the old books and documents, he would know if the castle had ever been near a place like that.

"Why are you so sure this is right?" Trevor asks, turning to Alucard. The vampire is idly running his long nailed fingers over his forehead, look of concentration on his face. "I've never heard of the place."

The vampire hums and opens his eyes to look his way. "It's the place where my mother was born," he says simply.

Ah. Well, that explains it then.

"Are you alright?" Sypha asks, looking at Alucard.

"I perfectly fine, thank you," the vampire says, though he doesn't look it. He actually looks a little... flushed, which considering his skin is paper white, is pretty damn noticeable.

Trevor looks him over and then shrugs, turning back to the book, continuing reading. Outside the Speaker house – which is now mostly empty of any actual Speakers except for Sypha – the morning has dawned and the city has woken up. The Speakers' house is removed enough that there's not much noise reaching it, but occasionally they can hear the creak of carriage or wheel barrow and judging by the stench that wafts after it...

They still haven't managed to get all the bodies out of the ruins – and they're starting to rot.

Trevor reads on. The story goes that the Sleeping Soldier used to be a great warrior – the story all but implies _knight_ – who faced against Dracula, in ages long past or something like that. After a long, arduous battle he defeated Dracula – wrong – but was sadly wounded in the battle – true enough – and was then laid to rest in a secret, protected chamber under the city of Gresit, to await the day when he'd be needed.

The day would come centuries later – in the future as far as the story and it's time of writing went – and on that day the Sleeping Soldier was met with a Hunter and a Scholar. Dracula had returned, and was once against spreading darkness and evil over the land of Wallachia. The Hunter and the Scholar had set out in search for the Sleeping Soldier so that they could, once more, destroy Dracula and his castle and put an end to the darkness.

Together they set out for the castle, known by all to reside near the village of Lupu in north, where it had always lain, apparently. Their journey was hard, and the darkness followed them and hunted them all the way until they reached the town... and the castle. And after many trials both on road, and in the village itself, they finally made their way to the castle and there inside.

The story glosses over the exact set of trials, just says that there are many battles, and that they were tested harshly at every turn, until finally, apparently, they faced off against Dracula himself and apparently defeated him after a long, difficult battle.

At least the damn thing doesn't have the gall to promise him they lived happily ever after because fuck him if they'll live through the whole thing at all.

"I hate prophesies," Trevor mutters and snaps the book shut. Sypha has moved on to the other end of the room, where she is going through the Speakers' things. Alucard, in mean while, has sat on a clean spot against near by wall – and has apparently fallen asleep.

Trevor stares at him with surprise. The vampire's legs are crossed and his stupidly long sword is resting on top of them, one of his hands loosely grasping the sword hilt. His chin is dipped low to his chest and he's really... really just asleep.

He still looks flushed too, a dusting of red on his cheeks. He looks almost feverish. What the hell?

Trevor eyes the vampire for a moment and then gets up slowly. Immediately Alucard's eyes open, turning to him and glaring him through his hair.

"At the risk of sounding like I actually care... are you alright?" Trevor asks slowly.

"I'm fine," the vampire grouses and leans his head back, almost thinking it against the wall. He sighs. "You drink too much."

Trevor blinks at that and then he gets it. "Oh my god."

"Shut up," Alucard sighs, closing his eyes.

"Oh my actual glorious fucking god – I made you drunk," Trevor says and snorts. "You got drunk off my blood."

"I got indigestion from your blood, is what I got," the vampire grumbles and opens his eyes, low lidded and kind of bleary, now that Trevor really looks at it. It's kind of hard to say, because with eyes like that, Alucard looks bleary half of the time. "It will pass."

"I wasn't even drunk," Trevor snorts. "You're a goddamn lightweight, aren't you?"

Alucard sighs again and shifts where he is sitting, with that familiar clumsy softness to his movements as he does. "Shut up," the vampire says, pronouncing it with care.

"Heh," Trevor answers. "If it makes you like this every time, I wouldn't mind doing bloodletting again. This is hilarious."

Alucard rumbles deep in his throat. Then he looks at Trevor. "Would you really?" he asks with a sort of sleepy interest mingled with disbelief.

"Well," Trevor hedges, leaning back a little. "How often do you...?"

The vampire just stares at him for a long while, as if debating whether to tell him or not. In the end, he sighs. "Not as often as you people think," Alucard admits. "After week with no blood I will begin to weaken, but I can manage two under duress. It will be easier with access to animal blood, but it's not a replacement."

"Animal blood doesn't quite do the trick, does it?" Trevor asks.

"Not quite, no, but it can tide me over," Alucard agrees and then looks at him. "I assume you would not wish for Sypha to share her blood with me."

"You assume right," Trevor says, frowning. He hadn't really thought about it – but then, the reason it hadn't occurred to him is because it's just not an option.

"I thought so," Alucard says and closes his eyes. "Half a pint once every two weeks. That would be safest for you – any more and you will risk anaemia."

"You know a lot about this."

"It's matter of my own survival. Of course I do," the vampire says. "And as said, my mother was a doctor. She studied the matter extensively."

Trevor is quiet for a moment, eyeing him. A human woman who'd gone out her way to invent and ways for a vampire to live and sustain himself safely with no human deaths. The more Trevor hears about this woman...

"I think I would've liked to meet her," Trevor says. "Your mother. She must've been one hell of a woman."

Alucard hums. "One day out of the blue she walked up to my father's castle and insinuated herself into his life, made him teach her his knowledge, made him... better," he says quietly. "She was, indeed, one hell of a woman."

Trevor nods and looks away. Making Dracula better – bullshit, he would've said, except here he has the proof, Dracula's actual honest to god son, all sloshed up with his blood. And Trevor hadn't only survived the bloodletting, but the biggest injury he had after was a tiny dot on his arm, already healed shut.

It's harder to think Alucard as a monster now. It's... kind of annoying

"So I suppose we'll be heading for this Lupu village, then?" Trevor says. "How far is it?"

Alucard thinks about it for a moment. "I would need a map, but... at least hundred and fifty miles. Perhaps more."

Trevor stares at him. "Really," he says.

"Indeed," Alucard says and swallows, running his tongue over his teeth. "We could procure horses, or a cart," he muses. "Or rather you could – horses do not much care for my kind but I have other ways to travel."

"Procure horses, yeah sure, with what money?" Trevor mutters – although he does have a considerable sum of gold now... "Well, that's a moot point anyway – If there's a horse alive in Gresit after all this, I doubt it, and I doubt the owner would like to sell it. Not with the city starving."

The vampire hums in agreement. "On foot, then."

Hundred and fifty miles on foot. Even in best case scenario it would take them weeks. Shit.

With a grunt Trevor gets up. "Better start preparing then," he says and rests his hands at his hips, looking down on Alucard. "I'm assuming you don't know much about travel," he says. "Not in that get up."

"You assume wrong," Alucard says coolly and somehow, despite the angle, looks down at Trevor. "No need to be worried about me, Belmont, I promise I can handle myself on the road."

"Hm," Trevor answers dubiously. Alucard looks like he belongs in the backroom of a ball, debauching noble ladies. Like hell he knows what it's like to just walk and walk days on end. "Right. And when, exactly, do we travel?"

Alucard arches an eyebrow. "As soon as possible, I assume."

"I mean, day or night?" Trevor asks flatly. "You might be able to stand in sunlight, but can you handle it for hours at a time?"

Alucard frowns and looks down. "I see your point. Night... would be preferable."

Trevor sighs. It figures, damnit. And it's turning to winter too – nights are getting longer and darker. With demons and monsters raking through the countryside, travelling when it's dark out is... not exactly the safest thing.

"Maybe if we can get a cart with a hood at some point..." he muses.

Alucard hums. "Maybe," he says and then, with a sigh, he stands up. Trevor watches him and smiles a little when the vampire falters.

"Feeling a little woozy there," he comments.

Alucard casts him an unamused look and then looks away, at Sypha, who is walking towards them. "We should make preparations," he says.

"Yeah," Trevor says and turns to Sypha. "You need a different cloak."

"What is wrong with my clothes?" Sypha asks defensively.

"Well, they're Speaker's clothes for one. And if the good people of Gresit are any indication, I don't think you want to go around looking like a Speaker," Trevor says and then, while Sypha makes a face at him, he tugs at the edge of her cloak. "And this is thin. You travel in caravans. Sleep in your carts, right? Or under them. We won't be doing that and you need to keep warm or you'll get sick. And probably die."

"Tch," she answers, but a little uneasily. "We will travel by foot?"

"For now at least," Alucard says.

"And even if we won't, it's still going to be getting cold and we won't be sitting around many campfires," Trevor shrugs. "Not in these times. So you'll need something warmer. Something to keep the rain off your head, too. The stuff you're wearing will just soak through."

She makes a face, looking down on her clothes. Then she casts a look at Trevor's fur adorned cloak. Her nose scrunches up. "I am not getting something like that."

"Your loss – it's damn handy," Trevor shrugs, tucking at the fur. So it stinks like wet dog in rain, but it's worth it. "Get some thick wool then, that should do the trick. Just make sure there's enough of it to wrap around – you're going to need it."

Sypha frowns and then nods. "Alright, I will," she says determinedly. "What else?"

"I suppose we should buy some food and drink," Trevor says thoughtfully. He has the money now, it would be something to get a jug of beer to take with him..."

" _Water_ ," Alucard says firmly. "Food and _water_ , Belmont."

"Hey, you're the one drunk here," Trevor says with a snort. "You don't have a leg to stand on judging me, vampire."

* * *

 

While Alucard does whatever, Trevor and Sypha head out to buy their provisions. Sypha, doesn't have much in the way of money, Trevor doesn't either usually but thanks to Alucard they have small fortune in their disposal – well enough to buy them proper water skins and plenty of dried meat for the journey.

"Should we buy a pot?" Sypha asks thoughtfully, as she considers one very wretched looking man's stall – he's apparently trying to sell all of his worldly belongings, including a rather nice looking cast iron pot.

"You feel much like carrying it around?" Trevor asks wryly. "For hours and hours, for days and days. Trust me; you'll feel the weight after a while."

"Is that why you travel so light?" Sypha asks.

"That and having a pack tends to make people curious what's in that pack," Trevor shrugs. And you can only have your stuff stolen so many times before you decide it's just easier going without stuff. "The lighter you travel, the easier it is. Leave the pot for when and if we get horses, or a cart, alright?"

"Very well," Sypha sighs. "I don't like dry meat," she then mutters.

"You don't have to like it – you just have to eat it," Trevor says, and makes his way for the butcher woman's stall.

She gives them a look of distaste. "I won't be selling to any Speaker _witch_ ," she says. "Off with you."

"I'm not a witch," Sypha says strongly. "I am a _scholar_."

"Don't even try it, _witch_ , I saw you in the square," the butcher says with a scoff. "I saw you casting magic, practicing witchcraft! If I could, why, I would -!"

"I'm sure if you could, you'd do all world of harm to us and it would be very terrible," Trevor says flatly. "But I just want to buy some meat."

"I told you, I won't be selling to you lot! Be gone!"

"Not even for this?" Trevor asks dryly and takes out a coin, holding it between thumb and forefinger. The coin gleams golden in the sunlight.

The butcher woman hesitates and then spits at them. "I'll be taking no bewitched gold from witchcraft practicing vagabonds," she says with disdain. "Off with you before I call the guard!"

"What guard," Trevor snorts.

"Belmont," Sypha says, giving the butcher a look of dislike. "There are other places."

"Hm," Trevor answers and then shakes his head. "Yeah," he agrees and puts the coin away. "The goat tasted like shit anyway."

They end up buying somewhat less well preserved but still edible salted pork and some dry beef from another vendor – who isn't too happy to be selling to them, but who doesn't disdain the gold anyway. He even sells them a cask to carry the food in, which Trevor somewhat begrudgingly buys. Carrying the thing would be annoying, but it would probably preserve the stuff better.

"Now," he says, holding the cask under his arm. "Cloak."

"Alright," Sypha agrees with a sigh. "But I will keep my Speaker clothes under it. I will not forsake our traditions."

"Fine, we'll just get one that covers it all then," Trevor mutters. "I think I saw a vendor over there with clothes. Come on."

For once, the vendor isn't immediately reaching for a knife – instead she welcomes them with a feeble smile. "Looking for clothes?" she asks hopefully.

"That's the idea," Trevor agrees, giving her a look. She probably was a beautiful woman just little while back. Now her lips are cracked and faintly blue, his skin is sallow, and her gums are going black. Judging by the looks of it, she'll start loosing her teeth soon, if it hasn't already started.

Trevor presses his lips together and swallows his pity. He motions at Sypha. "She needs a travel cloak – do you have anything like it? Something dark, if you have it."

"I had a really nice black one, but I just sold it," the seller admits and considers her wares. "Well I have this," she then offers hopefully, showing not a cloak but a spool of dark blue cloth. "Nice thick wool, this. It's not a cloak, but I could sew it in shape real quick for you. Better than nothing, right?"

"That looks..." Trevor considers the cloth. It really is nice thick wool, very smooth – and dyed blue. That's... "…probably expensive."

"Well," the seamstress coughs and glances at him from under her somewhat messy hair. "I-it's not that expensive, really. And they say you got gold in that purse you got there. I think you can afford it."

"Ugh," Trevor mutters. This is what he gets. Probably the only reason no one's trying to rob him yet is because of the nigh horde attack.

Sypha, in the mean while, is eyeing the spool of cloth with interest. "May I?" she asks and when the seamstress nods, she reaches out to touch it. "Oh, it's... it's nice," she murmurs, a little longingly.

Trevor sighs. Speaker – she probably had never had clothes that weren't Speaker robes. "Alright, alright," he says. It's not like it's his money anyway. "How fast can you make it?"

"Give me an hour or so, I should have it done by then – ah, miss, do you mind if I measure you?" the seamstress asks, almost floating with relief as she takes out a measuring chord. Soon Sypha has been measured and with the orders to make sure the cloak would have a hood, they leave her to it.

"That was nice," Sypha says, looking back to the seamstress. "She was nice."

"She's dying and needs the money," Trevor shrugs. "Did you see her mouth? She's got scurvy and she's probably starving. In times like this no one is wasting their money on new clothes, not when they can just rob any they'd like from the dead, so... she can't exactly say no to gold."

"Oh. I see," Sypha murmurs and looks away. She's quiet for a moment. "Gresit... is really dying, isn't it?"

"Mmhmm," Trevor agrees. "It started dying the moment they decided to close the city off. If they're smart, they'll bust those gates open and abandon this place."

Sypha bows her head. "Maybe we should tell them that," she says quietly.

"You think it would make any difference at this point?" Trevor scoffs. "If they haven't done it yet, I doubt they'll do it in future either. The church pounded the idea of Gresit being safe into their heads, and they'll hold onto that stupid hope it until it gets them killed."

Sypha presses her lips together, looking displeased and stubborn

"They won't listen to us, Sypha," Trevor mutters and sighs, casting a look at all the dead people around them, still trying to go about their lives, still trying to live. Hope and need to survive mixed into suicidal idiocy. Humanity, in a nutshell. "They won't listen to anyone anymore, but least of all us. We represent everything that has gone wrong for them."

"So they are just going to die, just like that, and there is nothing we can do?" Sypha asks with a frown. "I don't believe that. I can't believe that."

Trevor shakes his head. "The best thing we can do for them is find Dracula's castle and put an end to the nighthorde," he says quietly. "We can't do everything, but we can do that." Or they could try, anyway, try and probably die in the attempt.

"So... you believe in it now?" Sypha asks, looking up at him. "You believe in the prophesy?"

"Tch. Hell no," Trevor mutters and looks away. He's not sure what he believes, anymore. But he's sure of one thing, at least.

The three of them, Sypha, Alucard and him, are the best chance Wallachia has. And that might be more a statement on the lack of options than their supposed strength, but... it's something.

It's more than he thought he'd ever have again.


	7. Chapter 7

"Nice cloak," Trevor says dryly to Alucard.

The vampire looks down onto the black cloak on his shoulders, and it doesn't surprise Trevor all that much that somehow, in middle of the wretched ruins of Gresit, Alucard has managed to find one fancy fucking cloak. It even has inner lining and everything, black from the outside and pale grey from the inside.

"Well," Alucard says, running his hand down along the cape's edge. "You said it was necessary for travel."

"Sensible, anyway. I don't know what a vampire would do with one, though, it's not like you can get sick," Trevor scoffs.

"I beg to differ," Alucard murmurs and then looks at Sypha. "I see your search was fruitful."

"Belmont had to have it made, but, yes," Sypha agrees, tucking at the edge of the cloak. It all but swallows her, which is just as well, really. Easier to hide her from any curious travellers. "It's... very warm."

Trevor hoists the cask of dry meat idly on his shoulder and looks at them. Fuck, they're about ready to go, aren't they? "So," he says and looks away, towards nearby window. It's still light outside, they can't go yet, but... "We're really doing this."

Alucard arches an eyebrow at him and Sypha bows her head, biting her lip. "I – if you don't mind, I'd like to spend some time with my grandfather," she says and grips the fabric of her cloak in her fingers tightly, all but wringing it.

Trevor sighs and scratches at the back of his head. "Yeah, of course," he says. "See if you can find something smaller to put the meat in, because I'm not carrying a cask around in the countryside."

"Alright, I'll see what I can find," Sypha says, casts a hesitant look at Alucard, and then heads off to find the other Speakers. Trevor looks after her and shakes his head. So young and already determined to die for her cause. Jesus fucking Christ.

"We will need her power," Alucard says quietly. "We will need all the help we can get."

"Yeah," Trevor agrees and turns away. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Hmm," Alucard hums with agreement and then takes something out from under his brand new cloak. "I procured a map, which I believe is as accurate as we can get. We should plan our route."

Trevor takes a breath and then releases it. Fuck it. "Yeah, fine," he says and leans in the look. Fuck, planning a journey – he hasn't done that in a while. Mostly he just... goes to where ever is the nearest after the previous place kicks him out.

"The village of Lupu is around here," Alucard says, pointing. North of Sibiu, west of Medies. Really fucking far away from Gresit. "According to the story, the castle is merely handful of miles off the village."

"Yeah. You know, if we have to travel at night, we're going to be pretty damn slow. It's too dangerous to light fires in night, it attracts monsters to you, so we'll be pretty much blind. Sypha and me anyway," Trevor says and runs a hand over his chin. "This will take weeks."

"I can guide you," Alucard comments.

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean we can see where we're stepping, that'll make us slow," Trevor answers and sighs. "If we get a carriage, could you manage inside it for the day?"

Alucard frowns. "Yes," he says finally. "If it is properly shielded from the sun, yes. Still... I cannot claim I'm pleased by the idea. I would be stuck inside for the most of the journey."

Trevor looks at him and the vampire doesn't meet his eyes, staring at the map instead. Stuck, he says, meaning helpless. "You stood in the sunlight before," Trevor comments, folding his arms. "How does that work anyway?"

"It's complicated. I suppose you could call it a... resistance. Or perhaps, tolerance," Alucard says. "Thanks to my mother's blood I can stand it for a while – but it wears on me. If I stand in sun for too long, I too will burn."

"Right – you're a half breed," Trevor mutters. "A dhampir."

"Tch, if you wish to call me such," Alucard says and leans back a little. "When I was younger perhaps it was even accurate."

"When you were younger," Trevor repeats, eyeing him suspiciously. "You're not exactly old, are you?"

Alucard looks at him with some amusement.

Trevor frowns. "Your mother wasn't even fifty years old, right?" he asks slowly.

"Why on earth would that matter?" Alucard asks. "I am immortal, after all."

"I'm pretty sure time passes the same for vampires as it does for humans," Trevor says flatly. "Even if you spend years sleeping in coffins. And trust me, not aging doesn't make you immortal."

Alucard smiles a little at that. "That is where you're wrong," he says and then shakes his head. "But I hardly see how this is relevant to our travel plans. We were talking about carriages."

"About your resistance to sunlight," Trevor agrees, still staring at him, now a bit dubiously. "How old are you?" he asks slowly.

The vampire considers him for a moment. "I'll tell you – if you tell me something."

"What?"

"That whip – it is the Vampire Killer, is it not?" Alucard asks, nodding to the whip at Trevor's hip. "Did you inherit it, or were you simply the last Belmont left to pick it up?"

Trevor stares at him, feeling strangely like he's been punched. "You son of a -"

"You wield it masterfully," Alucard says. "Not like someone who has simply stumbled into it – you have training, extensive training that took you years. But you do not claim to be the head or even the heir of the Belmont family – you say you're the last son. It made me wonder."

Trevor grits his teeth, resting a hand on the whip. "There's no fucking point being the head or heir," he says. "I'm the only one – there's not much of a family left to be head off."

Alucard eyes him patiently. "Were you the heir?" he asks again.

Trevor looks away. "I am... the last son of the Belmont family," he grinds out finally.

"You weren't the eldest child, then."

"Tch," Trevor answers with a grimace. "Disappointed, vampire?"

Alucard hums thoughtfully. "Well, if you really are the only one left, that makes you the head of the family, doesn't it?"

"Hooray, I'm the heir of a dead tree branch. Fucking wonderful," Trevor mutters.

"More of a sapling, really," Alucard says and looks at the map again. "You asked of my age. I am... older than the years permit."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Alucard smiles a little, amused. "I was born little less than twenty years ago," he says. "My private keep here I built centuries ago, to await the day Gresit would be constructed on top of it."

Trevor looks at him. "... what the shit?"

Now the vampire chuckles, obviously enjoying himself, the asshole. "Dracula's castle can appear anywhere," he says, repeating Trevor's own words back at him. "Anywhere. It is rooted in a realm beyond this one, that is why it can never be completely destroyed – it is eternal, it is beyond space and time. And in it I have lived in realms, in times, beyond this one."

Trevor stares at him incredulously. "That's..." he trails away, trying to wrap his head around the ridiculous idea. It... doesn't really work – all he accomplishes is the first twinge of an upcoming headache. "Fucking vampires," he sighs finally. "You know what, whatever. Let's just plan the damn travel route."

Alucard laughs under his breath and obligingly turns back to examine the map.

* * *

 

When the sun sets, the Speakers gather together to see them off. It's very solemn and serious, how the Elder speaks words of grandiose prophesy, going on about how they're, "heading off to meet their destiny," and how "great trials await you but with courage and faith they would see their journey to the end," and so on.

Poor Sypha is almost at tears by the end of it and Alucard feigns interest well, as he looks on with all the patience of a stone statue. Trevor doesn't even bother to pretend to listen and just tunes most of it out.

"And please," the Elder finishes, taking Sypha by the shoulders, "take care of yourself. I would hate to see something bad happen to you."

Something bad like, say, being turned to stone by a cyclops after being send down to face it alone, Trevor muses and almost rolls his eyes. The chances of any of them surviving this ordeal are pretty fucking minor – it'll be a hell of a way to go, but he's certainly harbouring no hope about getting a happy ending at the end of it. And judging by most of the Speakers, they aren't either.

They're throwing their hopes against a brick wall, hoping it will stick, knowing it won't. It's pathetic and pitiful and... and all they can do, really.

So, Trevor doesn't roll his eyes – but he doesn't listen either.

"You carry with you the last chance of peace for this country," the Elder says, looking at all three of them now. "All our hopes rest on your shoulders now. Go with our prayers."

 Alucard bows his head, all graceful and beautiful, and then turns to leave without word. Sypha does the same with tears in her eyes. Trevor scratches at the back of his head and then, with a sigh, nods his head and follows them as they step out of the Speaker house for the last time.

"Now what?" Trevor asks wryly, once they're out on the darkening streets of Gresit. "The city is still sealed, you know. Any idea how we're getting out?"

Alucard frowns a little at that and Sypha turns to Trevor. "You got in, Belmont," she points out. "I assumed we'd be going the same way."

"And I assume we won't," Trevor snorts. "Seeing that I climbed a shitpipe to get in. Doesn't seem like it's right way for destined heroes such as ourselves to depart from this oh so grand city."

They stare at him incredulously.

"You... came in through the sewer," Sypha says slowly. "I... see."

"Well, that explains the stench," Alucard murmurs with a sigh. "Do you make a habit of crawling through sewers, Belmont?"

"You'd be surprised how many cities leave their cesspools unguarded," Trevor shrugs. "Tends to be easiest way to sneak and out in my experience. And afterwards people don't like to bother you much, which is just a benefit, really."

Sypha shudders, looking a little green.

"Right," Alucard says, running a hand over his eyes and shaking his head. He turns to head away. "Very well, follow me. We can get out of Gresit through my keep."

"Oh, thank god," Sypha murmurs and hurries after him.

"You poor prim little princesses," Trevor says with a mockingly sad shake of his head and follows after them. It would be a laugh to see how they handled the open road – and how fast that propriety would be beaten to the ground by all the shit world had to offer.

* * *

 

Going through Alucard's keep again isn't nearly as exciting as it had been the first few times. There is still inordinate amount of climbing, jumping and things collapsing involved, but Alucard makes for a very steady guide, leading them through the traps with relative ease.

"Why, exactly, are the floors full of damn holes?" Trevor grumbles while jumping over yet another pit of certain doom.

"It makes things more interesting," Alucard answers amusedly – and then reaches out almost without looking to steady Sypha before she can fall over the edge to her death. "Also, I designed the keep to make sure only the ones I was expecting would reach its heart. It was meant to be a trial for you to prove yourself on. And it worked remarkably."

"You know we fell right through this place, right?" Trevor asks. "The place pretty much collapsed under us – we did no trials, we just fell down a damn hole. Several times in a goddamn row."

"And if it had been anyone other than you two, it would have proven lethal – and it did not," Alucard says calmly. "Therefore, the keep worked as designed."

"You mean you built this place?" Sypha asks. "But you – this place was built centuries ago, wasn't it?"

"It was," Alucard agrees. "It was a quieter back then, too. Come on now."

"But," Sypha says and as Alucard turns to head on she looks at Trevor. "I thought he was...?"

"Vampires," Trevor mutters. "It's probably better if you just don't think about it – that's what I'm doing."

"But how...?"

"Ask him – I'm just going to spare myself the headache," Trevor sighs and pushes her onward. "Go on."

Sypha sighs and then hurries on, to catch with Alucard. "How old are you, Alucard?" she asks.

"Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?" Alucard says with a mild smile. "How old are you?"

"I'm old _enough_ ," Sypha answers with a frown. "And I do not see what it matters."

The vampire gives her a look at that. "And I do not see how my age matters."

"But you are..." she trails off with a frown, looking conflicted. "I – I'm sorry, I meant no offence."

"And you caused none," Alucard answers. "I understand it is confusing, matters of immortals always are – but it really is inconsequential for what we're about here, isn't it? This keep was built centuries ago, and yes, I was the one who built it. Isn't that enough."

"But your mother..." Sypha says and then bows her head. "No, you're right – it is enough and it doesn't really matter. I'm sorry."

Trevor looks between them and then shakes his head. "Matters of immortals, my ass," he mutters. "Can we move on now?"

"Waiting on you, Belmont," Alucard answers. "Keep up."

"Tch," Trevor mutters with a roll of his head, and then glares up at the upcoming obstacle course of... stone platforms. Couldn't bother with stairs, could he? "Fucking vampires."

* * *

 

It's near to midnight by the time they finally find their way out of Alucard's fucking _maze_. They emerge into a forest somewhere east of Gresit, not exactly the direction Trevor had been hoping for, but damn it, at least they got out.

And it's pretty much pitch black, of course, with what little hope of moonlight covered in think bank of clouds. Better yet, it looks like it's about to rain. Or snow, with the chill in the air.

"Well," Trevor says with irritation. "I can't see a fucking thing. How about you?"

"Um," Sypha says, uneasy as she takes couple of careful steps in the darkness -and then, judging by the sound of it, almost gets tripped by a tree root. "Well."

"I can see perfectly," Alucard says with some amusement, his golden eyes almost glowing in the darkness. It's beyond creepy. "Should I hold your hands?"

"You're not funny," Trevor says flatly. "Just – find us a road, alright?"

The vampire chuckles, sending chill up Trevor's spine, and then he's gone, all but evaporating into the shadows. Trevor spits after him and then looks around. It's an old forest, but there are few trees young enough for him to reach their branches.

"What are you doing?" Sypha asks nervously.

"Getting us walking sticks," Trevor grunts, as he starts bending branches down, searching for straight ones. The branch he's bending cracks and after checking it over, Trevor trims it off loose branches and leaves, shorting it with his knife and taking care of any sharp edges. Then he hands it over to Sypha. "Here, use it to feel the ground. Should work as a weapon in a pinch, too."

"Ah, yes, thank you," Sypha says, accepting the branch awkwardly.

Trevor is just about done trimming a walking stick for himself when Alucard seems to just materialize out of nowhere. "I found a path," he says. "It's not quite a road but it seems to have been used by people, before the city was closed down."

"Wonderful, lead the way," Trevor says.

Making their way through the dark forest gets a little easier as their eyes adjust to the darkness, but it's still like walking with a sack over their head – and the shadows cast by the forest don't exactly help. And Alucard keeps going ahead too far, expecting them to keep up with his ridiculously long strides in the darkness.

"This is going to be whole bunches of fun, isn't it," Trevor hisses, after the fourth time he'd almost tripped on something in the darkness and just barely managed to keep himself from falling flat on his face.

"It will be easier once we get to the road," Sypha offers hopefully, her walking stick swishing and snapping in the darkness as she tests the ground with it, hitting low branches and bushes

"Weeks of this, though," Trevor mutters, tapping the ground with his branch until he hits something and then carefully feeling around a rock. "The sooner we can get a carriage, the better. Hell, I'll take a cart. We can buy Alucard a coffin or something – or stuff him in a barrel."

Sypha says nothing for a moment. "Speaker carts used to have cubby-holes," she says then thoughtfully. "Maybe a cart with something like that. It would be snug, but I think he's limber enough…"

"Excuse me?" Alucard asks coolly seemingly from nowhere.

Sypha lets out a startled little yelp and Trevor grumbles with irritation. "The road?"

"Just past those trees, right ahead of you," the vampire says. "Is it really this difficult for you, in the darkness?" he asks curiously.

"Some of us don't have cat's eyes," Trevor scoffs and lets out a curse as a branch snaps at his face in Sypha's wake. "Son of a -"

"I'm sorry," Sypha apologizes quickly. "There's a bush – "

"Fucking – let's just get to the goddamn road."

"This is almost fascinating," Alucard says in the darkness. "I've seen ghouls with more grace."

" _Shut up_ ," Trevor growls, and pretty much stumbles to the road. "Oh thank fucking god, _finally_."

And then he steps into a pothole and falls flat on his face.


	8. Chapter 8

By the time morning dawns, Trevor is hungry, somewhat angry, and more than just a bit done with the fucking night time travel. Even when walking through roads, he'd fallen into enough potholes and puddles and stumbled into enough rocks that his toes feel beaten and frozen all at once, and more than anything he just wants to light a fire and warm the damn things up a little – and maybe dry his boots while he's at it.

"Sun's is rising," Sypha says, with the exact tone of weary relief Trevor feels, while Alucard tucks his collar up, glaring at the light. "I guess we'll... stop for the day, then?"

"Yeah," Trevor says and looks at Alucard. "You good in just shade, or do we need to bury you?"

Alucard makes a face and looks to a near by copse of trees – not wild trees, but an orchard of lumber. It looks abandoned, same as the fields around them – left to fallow in the wake of Dracula's hordes, no doubt. Still, it looks like it'll offer shade.

"I should be fine there," the vampire admits.

"Right," Trevor says and stretches his arms. "Let's find a place to plant our asses then – god knows I want off my feet right about now."

"Oh, same," Sypha sighs.

The coppiced trees don't make much of a sunshade, it turns out – they don't have much in way of foliage left, this late into fall. Alucard is in the end forced to find a shelter behind a tree, rather and under it, and while Trevor and Sypha find whatever dry spot to sit they can find, the vampire buries himself in his cloak.

Sypha looks wan and exhausted in the sunlight. She's one tough girl, Trevor has to hand her that, not a word of complaint from her thorough the night – but it's taken a toll on her. She even accepts her share of the dry meat without complaint, waiting tiredly for Trevor to slice it into easily chewed portions before nibbling on it slowly.

"If we keep at this pace, we'll pass by a small village tomorrow night," Trevor says. "It's not much, and I very much doubt we'll find a carriage there. But we might find a cart."

Alucard, who has grown less and less amused during the night, hums. "It might be prudent to purchase one after all," he says. "At this pace..."

"Yeah," Trevor agrees and leans against a near by tree with a sigh. At this pace, they'd have snow long before they'd got anywhere near Dracula's castle. "I passed that village by before – the people there make the priesthood of Gresit look down right saintly, let me tell you. But I don't think they'll disdain gold."

"You've been to many places?" Sypha asks, between weary bites.

"Here and there," Trevor sighs and considers the piece of meat he cut for himself. "This whole country's long since gone to hell."

Alucard glances at him from the shadow. "Because of Dracula?" he asks quietly.

"The church, really," Trevor admits and sighs. "I don't know how it became like that. I don't really care. But Gresit and it's bishop is nothing new. Targoviste was the same, really, if not worse. Severin, Enisara... well before they were razed to the ground anyway."

"They were –?" Sypha looks up sharply.

"You didn't know? Gresit was one of the last one left," Trevor asks and bites into the meat. It tastes like shit, of course. "They started on Targoviste, went to Arges, then to Severin – and then rounded through the country and to east. Next was Chilia and then Enisara. Gresit... was the last big city left."

He'd been there to see Argos's last moments. It'd had looked a lot like Gresit had looked, just before the horde swooped down for the last time, and brought what was left to ruin. Gresit would be gone before week ended.

He feels Alucard looking at him and glances back. "What I'm really interested is seeing what happens next," Trevor says around the tough piece of meat, arching his eyebrows at the vampire. "What will the horde do, once it's done raiding the big cities."

Alucard looks away, tugging at his collar with a frown

"They raid the countryside too," Sypha comments quietly.

"Yeah, on their way to busier places. But what'll happen when there are no more places for them to go? Do they just scatter or... will they just target smaller and smaller cities towns until there are no settlements left. All the way down to smallest villages, until Wallachia has been reduced to nothing," Trevor snorts. "That's what he wants, isn't it? To kill us all."

Alucard bows his head a little. "We'll have to stop him before it gets to that."

Tall fucking order, that one, Trevor thinks bitterly and blinks at the bare branches above them.

Sypha finishes her meat and takes a sip of water. For a moment she sits there, considering her feet – probably just as bruised as Trevor's. Then she yawns into her hands.

"Sleep," Trevor says and sighs. "I'll take the first watch."

It's strange, being so tired so early in the morning, when the day is just starting to brighten, and few scattered birds still left start to quietly chirp in the distance. Sypha falls into fitful slumber in knot of tree roots and Alucard slumps behind the tree, hidden in its fleeting shade, while Trevor keeps himself awake by trying to move his toes in his boots. It hurts.

He's not terribly worried about being attacked though. The demons would've crawled under ground by now, and people... people don't harass other people on the open road, not anymore. It's just not worth it. They do it inside walls, and inside buildings, the few places it's still safe to be an asshole in – but out here?

There used to be patrols once. There used to be soldiers, travelling the roads, keeping them safe. They were the first thing to vanish, after Targoviste collapsed into smoking pile of shit.

Sighing, Trevor straightens up a bit and then tugs his boots off. He'd managed to wash his socks in the bath the day before, but that didn't repair the many holes in them, sadly. And under them, his toes are red and tender. He might've even broken his middle left toe, again.

Fucking night time travel – he'd be lucky to have toes left by the time they reached Dracula's castle.

"How many, do you think?" Alucard's voice asks, low and quiet enough that for a moment Trevor thinks he just imagined it.

"What?" Trevor asks, just as low to keep from waking Sypha.

"How many people have died already?"

Trevor stares at his toes for a while, rubbing at them to get circulation back. "Targoviste alone had population of fifty thousand people," he says then. "And that was months ago."

Alucard doesn't answer for a while, and Trevor thinks he might've fallen asleep by the time he speaks again. "Have you... lost anyone since then?"

Trevor scoffs and glances at him. Alucard isn't looking at him, staring instead at a patch of sunlight, screening through the trees. He looks tired, almost vacant. "Sleep, vampire," Trevor says finally. "You're on next watch."

Alucard closes his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry isn't worth shit these days," Trevor answers and stretches his aching toes out to the sun. It's fucking cold. Of course it is.

* * *

 

Trevor gets some sleep himself eventually, after giving Alucard few hours of awkward rest. The vampire ends up having to move into shadow every time the sun moves too far, of course, but that's not really Trevor's problem. Out here... you carry your own weight.

Sleeping in the sunlight isn't anything new to Trevor – when travelling he tends to sleep only during dawn and twilight, when the monsters are too busy into getting into or out of hiding. Night is too dangerous to fully let your guard down, and day is for travelling – so his sleep schedule has been pretty much fucked since he'd lost any hope of finding a permanent berth anywhere.

Still, sleeping at _noon_... it seems like bit of a waste.

Still, he forces himself to do it – the lack of sleep can kill you faster than lack of food, if you're stupid about it, so he knows to get his sleep wherever he can find it. And if it happens to be in full day light under some shit shade while vampire of all fucking things watches over him...

So Trevor sleeps, curled into his cloak and fur with no shame, keeping himself in as tight a ball as he can to preserve heat. He doesn't dream, one of the rare benefits of exhaustion.

Sypha looks more tired than he does, by the time her hand on his shoulder wakes him.

"Sun's setting," she says, looking weary and cold.

Trevor gives himself a moment to let his mind wake up, and then, once he's sure he has his wits about him, he sits up. His shoulder is numb and there is a cold patch on his hip – next time, he'd need to find some leaves to sleep on maybe.

If Sypha was a man and Alucard wasn't a fucking vampire, he might've suggested sharing some body heat, but alas...

Trevor stretches, wincing as his shoulder pops and then looks on as Sypha wakes Alucard. The vampire has given up on elegance at some point of the day judging by the looks of it – he's wrapped up in his long cloak like bat in his wings.

See, Trevor thinks. So it begins.

"How far is that village of yours?" Alucard asks, once he's up and respectable again.

"Few hours away at our pace," Trevor answers stands up. "And of course by then it'll be midnight and no one will be awake. Except maybe the tavern, if we're lucky, and I doubt we'll find a cart there."

"A tavern," Sypha says, a little wistfully.

"Hm," Alucard answers. "Did it, per chance, have rooms for rent?"

Trevor glances at them and almost sighs. One night – or rather one day – sleeping in the rough and they already want back indoors and into comfort. God, he can't even remember when he was that soft.

"Maybe," he says anyway. Accepting strange travellers in the middle of the night, though... Not many taverns did that. But then most travellers in these parts didn't have gold.

"Are you sure we can get a cart there?" Alucard asks.

"No," Trevor scoffs. "But it's bit more likely than a damn carriage, that's all I'm saying."

"Would it be worth the risk of losing rest of the night's travel?" Sypha asks.

Alucard frowns a bit, looking at Trevor. "Do you think we can improve on last night's pace?"

"A little, once we get used to it," Trevor admits. "If we got a night with moonlight, it won't even be hard, but..." he looks up pointedly.

The sky is still blanketed by clouds, and if it wouldn't rain tonight, it'd be raining by morning.

Alucard considers the sky as well and then shakes his head. "We better get a move on then – depending on the weather, the village might prove a necessity."

Trevor blinks at that with some surprise and then looks at Alucard. "Really?" he asks with interest. "Water too? I thought Dhampirs were supposed to be immune to most of these things."

"Tolerant, not immune, sadly," Alucard admits and straightens her cloak with a snap.

"Dhampir?" Sypha asks as she bends down to adjust her shoes.

"Half human half vampire half breed, like him. Dhampir," Trevor shrugs, eyeing Alucard. "They're... rare."

"I have never heard of that word before," Sypha admits, looking at Alucard.

"They tend to get killed by their own parents soon after birth," Alucard answers. "Humans do not tolerate half vampires – vampires do not tolerate half humans."

"Hated by both sides. Your life is a goddamn tragedy, isn't it?" Trevor mutters.

Alucard opens his mouth to answer and then snaps it shut, frowning.

Trevor shakes his head at him, not really caring what he'd been about to say, what justification he might've spouted. It doesn't really matter, at this point. "Let's just go already, while the night is young and all that shit."

"Try not to trip on every tree root and hole this time," Alucard answers wryly.

"You know, I wouldn't trip so damn many times if you actually did your job and warned me ahead of the time."

"Aren't you the most experienced traveller among us? Surely you do not need aid."

"You know, we could try walking in day light, see how your pasty white ass likes that."

Sypha just sighs at them and then goes on ahead without them.

* * *

 

The first sign of warning is the lack of smoke. The whole village is dark, of course – people don't light their streets anymore, and most people have long since covered their windows with boards. But everyone needs fires to heat their houses, cook their foods, and there's not a single curl of smoke in air, not a hint of wood smoke in air.

And then they smell the rot. The visceral, sharp stench of not rotting bodies – but of spilled entrails.

"Shit," Trevor mutters, while Sypha covers her nose and Alucard stands very still in the foul little breeze that carries the miasma of misery and ruin at them. It seems to be made all the worse by their brief venture into the open country side, where air was still clear, still clean, still fresh. After having gotten to clear their lungs, this... this is like blow to the gut.

The whole village is dead, it turns out. And worse yet, it's not the meaningful, mocking destruction of Gresit – there are no heads on spikes or intestine strung about like midsummer decorations. This place wasn't killed to make a message or to prove a point – it was just killed.

The corpses are everywhere, strung on rooftops, thrown against walls, left to rot in ditches. Houses are torn open, painted in the blood of their occupants, their babes smeared in their own cradles. Just death, mindless death, for no reason other than just because.

Trevor stands over the tavern, eying the bodies of two men by the counter – a fat man with his guts spilled all across the floor, and skinny man who's missing his jaw and tongue and most of his throat too. Behind the counter is the bartender, painted in both their blood.

He slit his own throat with a broken bottle. Smart man.

"The animals are dead too," Alucard says quietly as Trevor turns his back to the tavern. He looks almost ethereal in the bloodstained darkness, too clean, too fucking pure, to even be real. "There is nothing living left in here."

Sypha is leaning on the side of the tavern, throwing up. Not far from her is a body of a woman – judging by the gaping ruin of her guts, she was pregnant.

Trevor looks away. He almost misses it, getting nauseous like that. Almost. "Let's move on," he says and takes Sypha by the elbow. "Come on. The faster we get out of here, the better you'll feel."

"We should – we should bury these people. Or burn them!" she chokes, her eyes red and angry and helpless. "Just – pile them in the houses and burn them. We should do something!"

"There's maybe two hundred people here, Sypha," Trevor says flatly, mercilessly. "It would take all week. And if you want to go around the country side burying and burning every corpse torn to pieces by demons, you'll be doing it until you die of old age."

She gives him a furious, tear stained look. "Don't you feel anything?!" she demands and waves her hand wildly at him, almost slapping him on the chin. "How can you look at this and feel nothing?!"

Trevor looks at her and he feels... tired. "Let's go," he says simply and turns on his heel, giving her his back. Alucard looks between them, a mixed look on his perfect fucking face – but in the end... he follows Trevor.

Sypha follows after them, eventually, _angrily_ , spitting curses at Trevor's back all the way. But she follows, and they leave the dead village behind.

It's not like there's anything else they can do.

* * *

 

They shelter the next day in a hay barn, which judging by the state of the hay there, has been unused for long while. There's barely any hay and the stench of rotting wood and rats is heavy in the air, but it keeps the thin icy mist of rain off their backs better than any tree could have.

Sypha is still angry – exhausted, but angry – when she curls into the hay and falls into yet another day of fitful, exhausted slumber. She turns her back very pointedly at Trevor, and he supposes he can't blame her.

Definitely no body heat sharing in his future, looks like. It'll be a cold damn winter ahead of them.

"Sleep," Trevor says to Alucard, taking seat by the barn door. "I'll wake you in couple of hours."

Alucard hums his assent, but he doesn't settle down straight away, considering Sypha for a long moment. Then he looks at Trevor almost searchingly. Trevor ignores it for as long as he can – but damn it, it's hard to ignore a vampire's gaze.

"What?" he finally grinds out, beyond irritated now. "You want to curse me out too, be my guest. You and Sypha aren't the first and you won't be the last."

Alucard tilts his head a little at that, almost in agreement. "How many bodies did you bury?" he then asks. "How many did you burn? How many, Belmont, before it became too much?"

Trevor closes his eyes and the bitter helpless anger just _flares_ up, through the ever present exhaustion, through the grim reality. "Why?" he asks through gritted teeth. "You want to pin down the point where I gave up? Call me _defeated_? Because yeah, I gave up on burials. I gave up on them long ago and you know what – I'm not ashamed of it and I won't feel guilty about it. There are too damn many dead for anyone to bury."

Alucard doesn't answer for a long while, though Trevor expects it, there is no accusation. The vampire just stares at him, silent. Maybe even sad. Shit.

Trevor looks away first. "You managed to miss out on all the fun in your sleep, you know," he says bitterly and looks away. He can't even see the wretched field beyond – he's so _mad_. "In the beginning there were funerals by the hundreds, with all the rites and prayers and priests speaking solemn fucking words. But then the dead piled and piled and just kept on piling up – Arges, Severin, every _fucking_ town and village in between. Then there were funeral pyres until people ran out of fire wood and then mass graves until people got tired of digging and –"

There's a hand on his and it's only when it settles over his white knuckles that Trevor realizes that his nails are digging into his palms and he's shaking all over. Alucard is in front of him, looking at him and for a moment Trevor is hot all over with white overwhelming _rage,_ because this fucking _vampire_...!

Alucard's fingers are cool on the hot skin of his cheek and his thumb feels like snow as he brushes Trevor's tears away. And Trevor tries to shrug him off, to knock his hands away, but he can't because his own hands are shaking too damn much, and all he can do is squeeze them into fists and wish he could just hit Alucard and be done with it. But he can't.

The vampire doesn't say he's sorry. He doesn't say anything at all, he just fucking sits there and watches as Trevor breaks apart in front of him, and by god Trevor wishes he could hate him for it.

He can't do that either anymore, damn it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely my favourite chapter to write so far and heyooo double chapter day :D


	9. Chapter 9

It's an awkward few nights after that. The next town is further away, at least three days if not four at their pace, and in that time Trevor almost grows fond of the fucking darkness. At least this way he can avoid looking at Sypha and Alucard.

He's got no doubt Sypha heard the whole bloody fucking break down too – she was all tension and guilt the next night and really, if Trevor just could have erased that night from existence, that and the town and everything in it... Alas, he doesn't have powers over time. Unlike some.

They pass by a body that has been crucified onto a tree with its own entrails – a priest judging by the cassock. Trevor looks at the cross hanging from the man's neck – he's been strangled with the rosary. Apparently it had no effect on the monsters that killed the man, since they didn't even bother to destroy the thing – so, another faithless man of faith.

"If Dracula's castle can travel in time," Trevor says, staring at the body. "Why the hell didn't Dracula just go back and save his wife?" It's been quietly bothering him for couple of days now, as he's tried to, time and time again, figure out the whole matter of Dracula's castle being able to go every where and every when.

"The same reason I did not know where we would find the castle," Alucard answers. "Even we live linear lives – where-ever we live them, we cannot change our pasts, or learn our own futures."

"Oh, that's a damn shame, that is," Trevor mutters and glances at him. "But you know a future."

"I know..." Alucard frowns a little. "I know certain facts, from which I can elaborate. I know three people – a Hunter, a Scholar and a Vampire – will find and enter the castle. I know Belmont family will survive, even thrive, in future. So I know you, at least, will survive to have children. And I know that in future, humanity persists, and Wallachia still exists. So my father cannot succeed."

Trevor looks away, frowning. "Say we go there, we defeat Dracula, and then die a horrible death in his hands," he says flatly. "Say word gets out we were responsible. Do you have any idea how many miserable bastards will claim relation to the Belmonts afterwards?"

Alucard blinks at that and looks at him. "Ah," he says quietly.

Sypha looks between them and then at the corpse in the tree. "Were you behind the stories of the Sleeping Soldier?" she asks then, and her voice is quiet, tired.

"I was, yes," Alucard says and sighs. "I planted them in Gresit, to await for my eventual arrival. I wasn't sure how they would come to live but... history was on my side. I knew it would."

Sypha bows her head a little. "History is a living thing," she whispers. "And you control it. You have reins on it."

Alucard sighs. "History is set in stone but for those who still live it. Not even Dracula can change the past – it is his past too, the past that made him. There are limits."

"My head hurts," Trevor sighs and turns away from the dead priest. "Come on, let's just move on."

* * *

 

They sleep another day in a forest and then the day after that in what might pass for a cave for a blind drunk man – it's more of a stone ledge, under which they can shelter from another bout of rain. Trevor takes the first watch in both cases, and watches silently as his companions sleep.

They're getting used to it now. Sypha curls herself into her cloak like Trevor does, as tight as she can. Alucard wraps himself in his like a bat, hidden from head to toe and thus shielded from the sun. Bit by bit, they're loosing pride and propriety and getting what rest they can the best they can.

Slowly, they are gravitating to sleep closer together. Before there had been several feet in between – each day those feet seem to shorten. Now they sleep almost back to back, though that might be because of the lack of space.

Trevor sits at the edge of the shelter provided by the stone ledge and then, after moment of thought, he sits up enough to get his cloak from under his ass. He throws the hem over them both and watches the rain pour down.

There's frost at the edges of puddles, now, and it doesn't look like it's going to melt in the daytime. It's getting cold.

* * *

 

The next town they run into is, thankfully, still alive. If the demon horde has passed anywhere near it, it left the town unmolested. There's no blood on the streets, no entrails on rooftops, no bodies. There's no light in the streets in the night time, of course not, can't risk attracting monsters, but there's smoke curling from chimneys and light in the air. Alive. They haven't even fenced the streets shut.

It looks like scene from age past. Almost peaceful – except for the fact that people have left axes, pitchforks and even make shift spears everywhere. To keep their weapons near by if they need them.

Trevor peers at the church standing above the village. Wood, with shingled roof. It's been patched recently, there are bits of different colour, but the work has been done well. The windows haven't been boarded up.

"The priest here will be faithful," Trevor says.

"How do you know?" Sypha asks curiously.

"The church," Trevor says nodding. "It actually looks inviting."

And if he hadn't been travelling with a vampire, he might've actually looked for shelter there, if not for any other reason then to see if the priest had any sense. Sensible, reasonable priests made the best hosts and best sources of local information. They were also increasingly rare these days.

"Hmm," Alucard hums. "Let us find a tavern then, and see what we can learn."

"Cover your coat and pull up your hood," Trevor says to him, even as he pushes his fur down from where it'd been covering his head. "You're too damn fine for this place. Sypha, you too. The priest might be faithful, maybe even good, but the people might still be bastards. Let's not chance it."

"Alright," Sypha says and tugs her hood up, covering herself in her cloak. She's gotten little dirty in travel – the cloak has lost it's clean even tone and there's dirt on her cheek, which will serve her here. Alucard, though, seems impervious to dirt, standing there as clean and proper as he started the journey as.

Well, can't help it now.

Trevor leads them to the tavern, finding it with the ease of man who knows his taverns. It's far enough from the church to not be offensive, but still deep enough into the town to serve as its beating heart – or its hungry stomach.

It's cosy, inside. The ceiling is low, the counter is well worn and full of scratches, and judging by the crowd inside, it offers a better atmosphere than the previous tavern Trevor had spend time in. Men, in various states of drunken stupor, listing into their pints sleepily.

No tension in the air. Even their entrance doesn't do more than raise couple of eyebrows and garner interested glances – but no outwards suspicion.

Damn... this place hasn't seen a single demon, has it?

"I'm going to need coin up front," the heavy set woman behind the counter says.

"You'll have it," Trevor promises, while Sypha and Alucard try to hide their faces – and their curiosity – behind him. "Do you have rooms for rent?"

She considers him with a slight frown until Trevor sighs and takes out a golden coin from the pouch Alucard threw at him in Gresit. That garners a slight frown and Trevor flicks it at her. "Go on, test it."

She bites into the coin, examines the mark made into it and then nods. "There are beds in the attic, blankets – no rooms," she says and considers the coin. "This'll buy you the night and food for morning – and one round of drinks."

"We'll take it, thanks – can we have the food now?"

"It'll be cold."

"After what we've been eating, trust me, we don't mind," Trevor says and glances at Sypha who nods in agreement.

The woman behind the counter considers them and then nods. "Alright, I'll put together plates for you. You want ale while you wait."

"Just water, please," Alucard says and Trevor rolls his eyes.

"Ale for me, thanks," Trevor says, ignoring the vampire.

Shaking her head a little, the woman gets Trevor a pint of ale and pitcher of water for Sypha and Alucard. They find seats in a dark corner of the tavern, where Trevor takes the outer most seat, with Sypha in his shadow next to the wall, and Alucard with his back to the rest of the tavern.

"You should really drink more water, Belmont," Alucard says.

"Mind your own business," Trevor mutters but without any heat, and takes a gulp of the ale. It… isn't nearly as good as he'd been hoping.

"Do you think we can find cart here?" Sypha asks, checking the ceramic cup she'd been given before pouring some water in it.

"Should do," Trevor says, leaning his cheek into his knuckles. "Might even find a carriage, though I wouldn't hold my breath about that one."

"A cart would better than nothing," Alucard says, carefully keeping his hood up. "If it means we can travel faster."

"Hmm," Trevor answers, taking another gulp and considering the vampire. "Get some blankets, some food – we'll get on in down right comfort."

They fall silent after that, a little awkward, and Trevor turns his attention to the other customers. Most of them are either out of it, or trying to leave. Benefit of having arrived past midnight – no one's upright enough to start a bar fight. Not that Trevor would've minded one right now.

Things are... bit weird now, and he's not sure how to handle it. Mostly he's just not.

"Here you gents," the bartender says, carrying over a wooden tray. There's three bowls on it, with piece of bread, cheese, some cold meat and what looks like boiled carrots in it. "Best I can offer at this time of the night. You'll get porridge in the morning."

"We'll look forward to it," Trevor says accepting his bowl. "Thanks."

"You can get up to the attic through there," the woman points at set of stairs near the back. "I'll be closing the tavern in a bit, so, eat quickly."

"We will, thanks," Trevor nods. They wait until the woman has gotten distracted trying to usher other customers away before sharing the contents of the third bowl between Sypha and Trevor, Alucard being not all that into human food.

"How are you doing, Alucard?" Sypha asks, somewhat guiltily, even as she accepts Alucard's portion of carrots. "It's been almost a week, since..."

Trevor looks up at the vampire. "Right," he says under his breath. "You said something about animal…" blood, he doesn't say out loud, because it's hard to say who's within hearing range.

The vampire hesitates, looking at Trevor. "There have been none in the lands from Gresit to here," he admits. "I meant to hunt, but..."

Yeah. With demons and monsters about, wild life didn't tend to stick around. "We can buy you something here then," Trevor says, and gives him a look. "If we have the money for it."

"We do," Alucard promises, looking back steadily

And then there is another, somewhat awkward, silence. Trevor concentrates eating his food down to the last crumb and draining his pint. Sypha is, somehow, even faster, finishing her carrots with a satisfied crunch and then draining her water glass empty. "Sleeping in a real bed," she sighs. "I can't wait."

Trevor finishes his food not much after, draining his pint in one gulp and, just for a moment, considering refill. Alucard stares at him all judgmental and in the end Trevor decides it's just not worth the nagging and set his pint down. "Fine," he mutters and gets up. "Let's go get some sleep."

The beds in the attic aren't exactly the pinnacle of luxury, but they beat mouldy barns and wet patches of moss if nothing else. Sypha lies down with a deep, relieved sigh, burrowing herself under the scratchy blanket without bothering to even take her boots off.

Trevor sits on the bed beside her, looking at her. She's kept her hood up and what little he can see her hair, it looks dirty and greasy. His own is a mess, he knows that much and doesn't really care, but it's strangely off putting seeing Sypha get more and more worn down. She was so clean before.

He'd expected it, even looked forward to it – let the princess experience life from his point of view and see how high and mighty she was afterwards. Now he's just... kind of bothered by it.

"Do you need blood?" Trevor asks Alucard without looking at the vampire. Thankfully they're the only ones at the attic. Not so many travellers these days.

"Belmont," the vampire says with a frown. "It's been less than a week. And if you find me an animal to bleed – "

"You said you could do a week, but started weakening afterwards, and animal blood isn't a replacement," Trevor says, looking at him with a scowl. "If we get a cart here and continue during the day, Sypha and me will be spending days awake. At night, you're going to have to stand guard."

The vampire frowns, bowing his head a bit. "I don't..." he trails away as Trevor shucks off his cloak and takes off his gauntlet before pulling up his sleeve. For a long while Alucard just stares at his bared forearm, indecisive.

"Come on," Trevor says, swallowing. "I'm all fed, and there's a bed for me to recover on and everything."

"If... if this is because of the other night..."

"Fucking, just come here and _do this thing_ ," Trevor grunts.

Alucard steps closer and then, slowly, goes down on his knees beside him. He hesitates a little over Trevor's arm before bringing out the silver case of bloodletting tools. "It's too soon," he says under his breath, even as he opens the thing.

"I don't give a shit," Trevor mutters and releases the tension he'd been holding as Alucard takes the purifying potion and a new wad of pure white cloth, and starts cleaning his arm for the needle.

It's not gratitude, Trevor thinks to himself firmly. It's not. He's not sure what it is, what the hell he's doing, but it's not that. It's probably something worse.

Alucard spends his time cleaning Trevor's forearm where the previous puncture mark is all but healed now, barely visible. His attention is all on the arm, and so Trevor gets to just look at his face for once without the awkwardness of eye contact.

He really looks unreal. He looks as cold as Trevor knows he feels. A terrible, beautiful thing, frozen in time.

Trevor swallows and looks down as Alucard puts the cloth away and takes one of the needles instead. "I don't have a glass," he mutters then, glancing around in search of something. The only thing his eyes find is a piss pot.

"Don't you even think about it," Trevor snorts.

"Ugh, not even in my worst nightmares," the vampire shudders. Still he hesitates with the needle.

"You're wasting time – get on with it already," Trevor nods at the device. "Just, drink straight from that thing."

"No, that is – no. It is not safe," Alucard says, frowning. He glances at Trevor and then at his arm and then seems to make a decision. He takes a breath closes his eyes and when he opens them again, his irises are glowing red.

There's again that morbid curiosity as the needle punctures his skin with barely a pinch. Trevor clenches his hand into a fist and releases, watching the needle slide in deeper, tugging minutely at his skin as Alucard gets it where he wants it, carefully but steadily pushing it along until he's satisfied.

Then he holds his palm under the needle, and releases his stopper.

It cuts like hot blade, watching his blood flow onto Alucard's open pale palm. It's only for a second, before Alucard quickly snaps the stopper back in place and then Trevor watches, open mouthed, how the vampire drinks the blood on his cupped palm.

Holy _fuck_.

Alucard doesn't look at him – embarrassed maybe to be behaving like an animal. Instead he cleans his hand with the meticulous care of a cat, lapping away at every single drop, before putting his hand, now wet with spit, under the needle. And then he releases the stopper again and the blood once again flows right into his welcoming hand.

Trevor gets the dubious pleasure of watching Alucard literally lick his own hand twice more, watch him lave his tongue all over his bloody skin until it comes away clean. It's horrible and enticing all at once and Trevor wishes he could make a joke or cutting remark about it – but _fuck_.

He's utterly completely speechless.

Alucard sighs, running his tongue between his fingers for the last time and their eyes meet.

"Get this fucking thing off my arm," Trevor says, his voice dry.

Alucard winces – he's a little flushed now but his hands are steady as they press the still potion-wet cloth against the skin where the needle sinks in, and then he pulls the needle out, pressing the cloth down to keep the little wound from, bleeding. Trevor puts his hand over the cloth, almost trapping Alucard's cool fingers with it, and the vampire doesn't get the chance to put the needle away.

It clatters to the floor as Trevor grabs him by the neck to haul him in.

Alucard stops him with a hand that all but appears to cover Trevor's mouth, cool and forbidding.

"You fucking –" Trevor grumbles against his fingers, as the heat fades into fury and then into cold, cutting disappointment. "Too low for you?"

"You can't," Alucard says, his voice shaking.

Trevor inhales sharply and closes his eyes. Shit.

 _Shit_.

He hasn't wanted anything as bad as to do _something_ right now, not since the mansion burned. For one utterly lunatic moment he actually wanted to kiss the damn vampire. Now he just wants to fucking _punch_ him his perfect aristocratic fucking nose.

Alucard's hand on his chin shifts, until he's holding his chin in his fingers and pressing his thumb alone against Trevor's mouth, running it along his bottom lip. "You can't kiss me, you lunatic," the blond man says roughly, even as he stares at Trevor's mouth with open desire. "I'm a _vampire_. You should _know_ better."

Trevor opens his mouth to answer and Alucard exhales – the pad of his thumb presses on Trevor's tongue. Watching him with interest, Trevor closes his lips around his finger just for a moment. Alucard draws a breath, as if to complain, but no objection comes forward. He just stares, wordless, and Trevor bites around his finger.

"No kissing, then," Trevor grumbles, and takes Alucard's hand off his face in order to reach for him again – Alucard stops him again. "What now?" Trevor demands impatiently.

"Sypha," Alucard says, glancing at her.

Trevor looks her way, irritated and on the edge. She has her back to them – but she's tense and isn't breathing. "If she doesn't want to listen in, she can damn well _leave_ ," Trevor growls at her. "I don't give a shit either way."

"Of course you don't," Alucard sighs in resignation. "What was I thinking? You have no sense of propriety, you utter _brute_ –"

He stops there as Trevor takes him by the chin, this time tilting the vampire's head back. Alucard allows it with a swallow, making a sound that's both uncertain and interested and which then catches sharply in his throat in a quiet gasp.

Alucard's skin doesn't taste like anything – but sound he makes is utterly _delicious_. And Trevor might not know what the hell he's doing of why the fuck he wants it so much, but he knows one thing. He's going to make Alucard make that noise a _lot more_ even if it's the last thing he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, one more chapter to go if all goes according to plan.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just pure smut and nothing else, and also I upped the rating again just for this. Just so you know.

Alucard is so cold. It's strangely enthralling, how cool his skin is under Trevor's lips and his cheek, as he trails down along the pale flesh of his neck, luxuriating in the strange feel of it. It's like the vampire has been standing around in the chill all naked – it makes Trevor want cover that skin with hands and just rub all over to see if the warmth would stain him.

Alucard feels like what fresh fallen snow looks like, and Trevor wants to leave his mark on him, smear his heat all over him, see him _melt_.

"This isn't smart," Alucard rumbles in his ear, even as he allows it – and Trevor knows he allows it, because Alucard is leaning his head back while Trevor trails his hand down on that chilly skin, finger spread as wide as he can get them.

"And what about quest to defeat Dracula seems _smart_ to you," Trevor says and, while Alucard draws a breath that _thrums_ in his deep throat like a purr, he lays his tongue on the man. The lack of taste is so strange. It's like trying to find salt in fresh water spring – it's just not there. "We're all suicidal idiots here."

"I beg to differ," the vampire says and then draws a breath.

Trevor sucks at his skin, more curious than heated and then leans back to see if he left a mark. Nothing. "Do you bruise at all?" he asks in fascination and then, before Alucard gets the chance to answer, he dives back in – this time with his teeth.

There's a long fingered hand in his hair and Trevor's head is wrenched back before he can do any proper damage. Alucard's eyes glow, a pale, almost frosty gold that clashes with heat of his expression.

Alucard's eyes flicker between Trevor's eyes and then, almost curiously, he tightens his grip on Trevor's hair and force's his head back. Trevor lets him, grinning wildly as Alucard's eyes trail along his face down to his neck.

"You're a fool, Belmont," Alucard whispers, one long nailed finger trailing down Trevor's neck, digging into his pulse point. He grimaces and heat flares in his eyes, warming the frosty gold there – threatening to bleed it to red. "Where's your knife?"

"I think if you need a knife in bed, you're probably doing it wrong," Trevor says and fights against his grip, just enough to meet Alucard's eyes at head on, rather than down his nose. "But if you want, I can grab my whip. Wrap it around your throat again. Bind you down and then have my way with you while you can't do shit, just lay there and _moan_ for me."

"So terribly crude," Alucard mutters and Trevor gets the impression that he likes it.

"You want crude, vampire?" Trevor grins widely, licking his teeth. "I can give you crude."

He has his hands under Alucard's cloak, fingers crawling over the buttons of Alucard's coat to get underneath it, and he's so enthralled by the disgusted, interested look on Alucard's face that he doesn't hear Sypha getting up and stomping away, muttering curses the whole way, until she's already half way through the room. Alucard glances after her, looking slightly guilty – and then Trevor gets a hand in his lap.

"Ha, so you do have something here," Trevor murmurs with triumph, and grins, all teeth, when Alucard almost reflexively tugs at his hair, forcing his head back. It does nothing to dislodge Trevor's hand and without shame Trevor rubs at the stiff fabric there, tilting his hand so that he can push his fingers into the tight valley between the vampire's legs.

Alucard exhales and the bulge in Trevor's hand twitches under the fabric. "And you feel too," Trevor says with delight. "I wondered."

"I feel when I want to feel," Alucard breathes and then he shifts – going from sitting on his feet to standing on his knees. Trevor follows him with his hands and then lets out a hum of appreciation when Alucard, just slightly, spreads his legs, allowing him deeper.

And he's still cold. Trevor is already sweating up the back of his tunic and can feel his face all but glow with the heat coursing through him – but Alucard is all ice, not a hint of blush on his cheeks. Shit, Trevor should've drank more before the bloodletting, and not just some watered down piss like the ale this place served but...

Next time, definitely.

Alucard looms over him, staring down at him as his hair falls over his shoulders and chest like golden water fall and he's not even real – and fuck – "I want to kiss you so bad," Trevor murmurs, fingers digging into the seam of Alucard's trousers and the vampire's grip on his hair tightens – and then releases.

His hands feel almost sweet on Trevor's heated cheeks and his eyes smoulder like with inner fire. Alucard all but cradles his chin, his long nailed thumbs under his lips and Trevor lets his mouth fall open at their slight insistence.

"Stay _very_ still," Alucard breathes and then leans down.

Trevor lets his eyes fall shut, keeps his mouth slack. Alucard tastes like blood and nothing, like water with no taste. His lips are as cold as everything, but his tongue has heat on it that Trevor knows, somehow distantly, came from his own blood – it comes away even warmer, when Alucard pulls back with a satisfied sigh.

"Again," Trevor demands with his free hand tugging at Alucard's waist now and the vampire leans back in.

It's a strange, alien sort of thrill to just sit there, head tilted back and mouth unmoving while Alucard just takes what he wants from him. It's almost infuriatingly careful – less like a kiss of passion and more like something out of a romance story, careful and luxurious and almost painstakingly slow. The taste of blood fades and then Alucard tastes of nothing – tastes more like Trevor than anything else – and the more of it Trevor gets, the thirstier for it he becomes.

He can just for a moment feel the threat of Alucard's fangs, but it's only on an upward shift, their length just for a moment pressing against his upper lip before Alucard retreats, licking at his now wet lips.

"Your breath stinks," the vampire says and moment breaks.

"You little shit," Trevor mutters and grips at his groin. Alucard eyes flicker shut and his mouth opens in a silent breath as he pushes into Trevor's hand. Once, and then again when Trevor answers in kind, a sinuous roll of his hips more fit for a dancer than whatever he is.

"Fuck," Trevor says and shifts under him. He has to get the man naked, now, and see him do that again, only this time without clothing. "Come on, take this _off_. – "

Alucard chuckles and finally releases his hair in order to undo his coat fully. Trevor pushes it open with little care to the state of the rich fabric and then he quickly pulls Alucard's shirt from under the waistline of his trousers. He's seen the man shirtless before, of course, but this is different.

Shit, he's still wearing the belts.

"You have no coordination to speak off, do you?" Alucard rumbles in his ear, and shrugs his cloak off. It falls in heavy rustle of fabric, soon followed by the thick coat he wears and the vampire laughs quietly as Trevor all but claws at his shirt to get it out of the way.

First thing Trevor does is trail his tongue all over the expanse of white, scarred skin in front of him. Alucard's hands settle on the back of his neck and he arches into his lips like a fucking succubus, humming in pleasure as he fucking _gyrates_ at Trevor.

Trevor shifts quickly into better position, lining himself under Alucard and pulling him closer – and Jesus _fuck_ , Alucard lets him, comes down on him on another utterly sinful roll of his hips, and then they're rutting together.

"F-fuck," Trevor breathes against his chest and tries to bite at him to keep himself from whining – he still has all of his clothes on, fuck! Alucard's skin is too firm there to get a hold of, and the vampire laughs, his voice low as Trevor pants against his skin.

"Feeling overwhelmed there, Belmont?" Alucard murmurs with smug satisfaction, his nails trailing threateningly down the back of Trevor's neck and making him shiver.

"You're sin embodied," Trevor breathes, trailing his lips across and to the nearest thing he can bite. Alucard hisses and his nails almost dig into Trevor's neck... but he doesn't move away, doesn't force Trevor back.

Trevor grins around the delicate little nub, rolling it just slightly between his teeth, and while Alucard bares his teeth at him, Trevor sucks, running his tongue over the soft pink skin until it hardens under his efforts.

Next thing he knows, he's on his back on the floor and there's a lustful vampire astride over him, clawing at his furs. "Shit – don't break that!"

"Then get it off," Alucard hisses and then, unhelpfully, grabs at Trevor's hair again – he must have a thing about that, Trevor thinks, and then Alucard is forcing his head to the side and is at his neck, trailing his lips up his pulse point. "Quickly now," the vampire orders and his voice is trembling with urgency.

Trevor's whole body seems to throb at the feel of it, at the thrum of Alucard's voice. It takes him embarrassingly long to get his wits about him enough to unclasp his cloak, and as it falls open around him Trevor tries to get at his belts – and then there is Alucard's hand on the soft skin of his lower belly, pushing his tunic up.

Hitched breath half escapes and then gets caught in Trevor's throat as he feels Alucard's fingers, his nails, scraping at hia skin. Then the whole cool palm press down, a thumb snags momentarily on Trevor's belly button and then his stomach is bared, his literal vulnerable under belly utterly defenceless under a vampire's claws.

Trevor's cock is now straining in his trousers and every shift of Alucard's hand makes him twitch painfully.

"You're so hot," Alucard murmurs almost breathlessly against Trevor's neck, stroking his hand slowly, oh so slowly, up. Trevor's tunic punches up at the vampire's wrist as more of him is bared. "Take your gauntlet off."

Trevor blinks up at him, half lost in the almost tingling sensation. The clash of his own heat against Alucard's hand is intoxicating, and he can barely think past it. How will it feel when they finally – is Alucard really this cold all over? Even on the inside? Jesus Christ.

"Belmont," the vampire says impatiently.

 "Wha –"

"Your other gauntlet, you still have it on – take it _off_."

Trevor swallows and then, somehow, manages it, pushing the thing off his arm clumsily until it thunks down on the floor beside him. He gets distracted by it for a moment – they're on the floor, they're surrounded by beds and they're _on_ the floor –

And then Alucard gets his tunic off, and they're both shirtless and Trevor barely gets the moment to appreciate that at all before the vampire is already pressing down on him, plastering all over him from shoulder to hip. There's a shiver of cold running up Trevor's spine, and somewhere in the back of his head the last of his survival instincts _shriek_ that Alucard is not human.

Then Trevor has his ass in his hands and oh good fucking god, it's gorgeous and he doesn't care about anything else.

"Mmm," Alucard hums straight into his ear and languidly ruts his whole body against him, one hand gripping Trevor by the shoulder for leverage. "So warm –"

"Shit," Trevor murmurs and angles his hips so that he can get one leg between Alucard's, can lift it up enough for Alucard to thrust back against it. The vampire does so with a breathy sigh, dragging against it slowly up and then down, and Trevor urges him on by gripping his ass tighter, pulling at him.

For a moment, Trevor thinks he just could come just from this, from having this immortal creature of the fucking night humping him like the world's most dangerous and expensive whore.

Then he slides his fingers as deep under the back of Alucard's stupidly tight trousers as he can and digs them into the firm flesh of his ass, and he _wants_.

"Hey," he breathes right into Alucard's ear, as hot as he can possibly manage. "Wanna feel something hotter?"

"You're terrible," Alucard complains, even as he pushes back against Trevor's hands. He pulls back just enough to look down at Trevor, leaning his elbows against the fur under Trevor. "Have you fucked a man before, Belmont?"

It's as close to crude Trevor has ever heard Alucard go, and it runs through him like lightning. "A time or two," Trevor admits.

"And how did they like it?"

Trevor looks up at him, now frowning a little. "Jealous?" he asks, a little uneasily.

Alucard sighs. "Answer enough," he says and pushes up. Trevor grips him by the waist, trying to get him back down – but Alucard just slides off his hold and gets up entirely, standing over him.

"Hey, wait –" Trevor starts to push up to his elbows, not sure what he did wrong – but the words die at his tongue. Alucard bends down at the waist, like a goddamn juggler or something, and undoes his boots. Moment later, he eases them off and kicks them aside, his feet bare on the wooden floorboards. Then, while Trevor stares up at him speechlessly, Alucard unbuckles his belts, and opens his trousers.

Trevor's mouth goes completely dry even before Alucard gets the trousers off his hips, down his smooth long thighs, past his knees, and finally off. Jesus, Mary and Joseph – he's...

Alucard eyes him, cocks his hips just so and rest a hand on his hip bone – and Trevor is _so_ close to begging now. "Well?" the vampire asks, a little amused by his reaction.

Trevor isn't sure what he's expecting exactly – but he knows what he wants. Quickly he gets up to his knees and then, throwing all pretence of holding onto his pride out of the fucking window, he shuffles over to Alucard. The vampire frowns a little with confusion and then lets out a breath as Trevor gets his hands on the man's slim hips – and his mouth on his cock.

Fuck, he is so cool here too – hard, but cool. Now that Trevor is getting used to it, it's not that Alucard is deathly cold, exactly – he's not icy. He's more... room temperature than anything. And against the heat coursing through Trevor's own veins, it's almost sweet. Like dousing himself in spring water on the hottest day in the summer. It makes him so thirsty, ravenously thirsty. Would Alucard's seed have no taste too?

"N-not quite what I had in mind –" Alucard says and stops in a gasp, his hands both tangling in Trevor's hair as Trevor moans and takes him as deep as he can. "I meant for you to get your trousers off, you absolute oaf – oh, oh _hell_ –!"

Trevor runs his hands around Alucard's hips and cradles his ass greedily and tries simultaneously swallow Alucard down and not _choke_ on him. It gets so much better and so much worse when Alucard gets the idea and grips the back of his skull and starts pushing into him, fucking into his mouth.

He could choke me, Trevor thinks blearily and he doesn't even care, because Alucard is moaning above him, staring down at him in something like thrilled horror, and it's terrifyingly heady to have put that look on his previously so aloof face.

His cock warms in Trevor's mouth as it pushes over his tongue, deeper and deeper with each tentative thrust until it hits the back of Trevor's throat – and then Trevor is gagging on it, unable to breathe. Alucard's fingers grip his hair again and Trevor pretty much wrenched off, left gasping hotly against the now wet length of Alucard's cock while the vampire stares at him in wordless wonder.

"You are –" Alucard murmurs, his thumb coming to tug at Trevor's now swollen lips and almost mindlessly Trevor lets his mouth fall open, let's him push his thumb inside, to press down on his wet tongue.

In front of him, Alucard's cock's head gleams with the hint of almost translucent white of come and Trevor wonders drunkenly if he has it on his tongue, if that's what Alucard's staring at.

The vampire swallows and then shifts where he stands over him, widening his stance. "Suck your fingers, get them wet," he orders and Trevor does, sticking two fingers into his mouth and running his tongue over them until they're wet with his spit. Alucard's eyes darken. "Now fuck me with them."

"Well, if you insist," Trevor answers, his voice fucked rough, and leans in. Alucard shifts his footing again, spreading his legs to make room. Trevor trails his finger over his hairless balls, over the soft skin behind them, and then to his hole. It's tight and dry to his touch.

Alucard stares at him as Trevor circles it curiously – hairless there too. Even women have more hair than Alucard does, he thinks – and then Alucard is proving himself very much male but taking his hard cock in hand, and feeding it to Trevor.

It's frustrating, trying to do both things at once – Trevor is way past the point where he can concentrate onto anything, never mind something so damn delicate. Wrong move and he might bite Alucard – might use him too hard. He's tight like vice around the tip of Trevor's middle finger, and the very notion of getting more than that inside seems ludicrous but, fuck, _fuck_ –

"Go on," Alucard urges him breathlessly, thrusting between his mouth and his hand. "I promise I can take it, Belmont."

He doesn't seem to be in discomfort anyway; maybe it's one of those feeling only what he wants to feel. Trevor is too gone to second guess him – and so he wiggles his finger inside, as deep as it can go, his mind floating somewhere in heated haze of _want_ as Alucard fucks his mouth, and Trevor in turn fucks him with his finger, in and out, in and out.

The vampire sighs, his hips twisting as he leans his head back a little, and Trevor's mouth is getting wetter and wetter – and not just with spit, now. Trevor looks up at him blearily and then digs his finger into the soft, tight flesh inside the vampire – trying to stretch him enough for a second finger.

Alucard almost chokes with his next, obviously reflexive thrust, and Trevor can feel his nails, scraping at his scalp. He thinks it must've hurt – but then the vampire is pushing back to his hand. "There," he breathes. "Just there, do that again – right – _there_ –"

Fuck but he sounds divine. Trevor whines around the firm length in his mouth and tries to haphazardly get his own trousers open enough to get a hand in, to get himself out – just to relieve the pressure a little because he's seriously dying here. He can't manage to open the belt, but he gets a hand inside and it's more a torture then a relief, he can't get a proper grip, fuck...

Trevor's fingers digs into Alucard, rubbing at that spot inside him – he can feel it, something slightly firmer deep inside Alucard tight flesh – and then the vampire's knees give out under him and his cock falls from Trevor's mouth as he crumbles with a moan down onto Trevor, sending them both onto the floor.

"... ow," Trevor complains – Alucard all but kneed him in the guts.

Alucard answers with what sounds gloriously like a whimper tries to steady himself on his hands and knees atop Trevor. He is shuddering a little, his hips moving.

Trevor stares at him, naked and wanton above him.

And then he gets his fingers back in there, two this time. Alucard whines and bows his head, as Trevor goes straight for that spot inside him, searching it out and rubbing against it. Watching the vampire closely, Trevor circles it with his fingers, and Alucard's whole body shudders, and his cock _leaks_ onto Trevor's belly in a helpless little spurt.

"Fuck," Trevor whispers, staring at him. "I really need to fuck you now."

"You're – still," Alucard gasps and swallows and tries to steady himself. "Wearing your – damn trousers –"

And dying in them too, Trevor agrees with a whine, pushing his hips against him. "Move, vampire."

Alucard hisses at him and then shifts just enough to Trevor to wring his belts open, to ease the bindings in front loose enough to push them back. The sigh that escapes him is pure relief when he finally gets himself out from the confines of his by now damp trousers.

Alucard looks down and licks his lips. Then he holds his hand to Trevor's mouth. "Spit."

"You're so terribly crude, Alucard," Trevor mutters, grinning, and instead of spitting in his hand he licks it, running his tongue heavily over Alucard's cool palm. The vampire gives him a look that's lost it's edge somewhere in the heat – but seems satisfied enough.

Trevor almost bangs his head against the floor when Alucard takes him in hand, rubbing at the head of his cock to get it wet before stroking up and down, slowly and tortuously. He does it again just as slowly while Trevor pants helplessly under him and thrusts into his hand, and then once more until he's satisfied.

Then Alucard is on his hands and knees over him, slowly sinking his ass down on him, and if Trevor had to choose a way to be killed by a vampire this would be right on top of the list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Internet voted for a smut chapter, so extra smut chapter you get. Your previously scheduled final chapter will thus be upgraded to chapter 11.
> 
> Also the Thing With Kissing is that in my personal head cannon, vampire fangs cause fatal case of death if they breach the skin. Either you become vampire - which would take effort - or you become ghoul - much more likely - or you just die. So, gotta be careful with the chompers.


	11. Chapter 11

Trevor wakes alone in early in the next morning. It's not exactly the most graceful to wake up – he's lying on a mound of his own discarded clothing, with his own cloak thrown over his mostly naked body, and underneath it he can feel the grime and grit of last night – which, of course, had not ended in any sort of attempt to clean up.

"Shit," he murmurs to himself and for a moment just stares at the low ceiling above him. His back hurts a little and his pelvis feels downright bruised and when he inhales just so, he can feel Alucard in the back of his throat. No denying that night, he thinks and runs a hand through his tangled hair.

He entertains the notion of shame, just for a moment – he pretty much sodomized a creature of the night, there. Then he decided against it because it was probably the best night he'd ever had laying with someone and not even up there as the worst sins he's committed.

Besides, as an excommunicant, he really should be past worrying about shit like that.

Sighing, Trevor closes his eyes and lets himself just think back to it for a moment. His cock makes a valiant effort to wake up, but in the end fails and hunger and the need to take a piss win out, so with a sigh he starts getting up.

There's a pail of clean water and a ragged little towel waiting not far from him. Trevor stares at it for a moment with arched brows – did Alucard get it? There's no sign of the vampire now anyway, and he doubts Sypha would've bothered. And if the tavern owner had done it, Trevor probably would've woken up to her screaming. So... it had to be Alucard, really.

Fuck. That's downright gentlemanly.

Well Trevor is way past the point of looking gift horse in the mouth at this point, so he uses it to clean up the best he can, wincing a little as he does, and then starts putting clothes on. It's still quiet down below and he can't hear anything from outside, so if the village is awake yet, they're not yet at work.

Trevor finds Sypha and Alucard down in the tavern when he finally makes his way down, Sypha slowly spooning watery looking porridge into her mouth while Alucard nurses a cup of something he will probably never actually drink. Both of them are hiding in the cloaks again.

Sypha glares at him from under her hood when she catches a glimpse of him. Alucard glances his way and then away – doesn't look embarrassed but definitely isn't going to mention it. Alright then.

Trevor looks to the counter where the tavern woman is arranging freshly washed tankards on a shelf. "Any of that porridge left?" he asks.

"I'll bring you a bowl in just a moment," she answers and keeps on working. Trevor nods in thanks and then turns to join Sypha and Alucard.

"I asked about the possibility of procuring a cart," Alucard says. "I heard we might get one at the church."

"The Church," Trevor repeats and sits down beside him.

"A postal card – the driver was attacked by demons on his way here and only managed to barely make it into the village before falling to his injuries," the vampire says, examining his cup with a care that can't be anything but attempt to avoid looking at Trevor. "The people here had no means to send the cart back to whence it came, so... it was left at the church, as it is where the driver died. It seems we might purchase, at a suitable fee."

"Hmm," Trevor says, looking at the tavern. It's well maintained, but not exactly wealthy looking. "They probably can't afford to keep the horses," he muses.

The tavern's owner then brings him his bowl of porridge, along with a piece of bread that's still soft. Trevor thanks her and then turns to his food – still warm.

Sypha keeps on glaring at him through the whole thing until she can't seem to hold it in anymore and leans in to hiss at him, "Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"

Trevor looks up at her, arching an eyebrow. She blushes a little under the stare and Alucard clears his throat a little, looking away.

"I'm sorry, Sypha," Trevor says solemnly. "Next time, we'll try and get a private room."

She throws the end of her bread at him in annoyance. "Tch. I had to sleep down here because of you," she grumbles. "The matron thought I'd gotten into her ale store."

Trevor catches the bread and then bites on it. "Did you?" he asks with interest.

The sound she makes is pure disgust.

* * *

 

They make their way to the church after that, Sypha walking slightly ahead of them, still full of indignation and disgust at Trevor. She's not trying to actually get away from them, though, so she'll probably get over it in time.

"Presumptuous of you," Alucard says quietly beside him and glances at him from under his hood. The sun hasn't fully risen yet, but it's still getting lighter out – at last, it looks like they might get a day with no dreary rain.

"Next time, Belmont?"

Trevor scratches at his scalp – his hair is a mess, more so than usual. "If that's your way of saying it was one time thing, you don't need to be coy about it. Just say it."

"Hmph," Alucard answers and looks away. "It is foolish," he says then under his breath. "What we did was stupid. Risky."

"Alucard, what do you think are our chances of making to Dracula's castle alive?" Trevor asks and pushes his hair back as well as he can. It doesn't stay there. "We're doing lot of foolish risky things, what's one more?"

The vampire doesn't answer, bowing his head a little. "That's your justification," he asks, without feeling.

"Your ass is my justification," Trevor mutters and sighs. "If I can have this, I'm going to take it, because I want it. That's all."

Alucard doesn't say anything to that, and Trevor doesn't either. He doesn't have a justification – fuck, he doesn't even have a reasonable explanation why Alucard is so fucking desirable at this point. He just is, and the night they had was glorious and if Trevor could have another, he'd take it, no questions asked.

It's been a long time since he's wanted anything that wasn't to do with survival, and didn't end in pain. Fuck yes he'd take it.

They make it to the church just as sun starts to peak past the houses, and Alucard quickly takes to lounging in the church's shadow while Trevor and Sypha make their way inside. The candles there are unlit and the church is dark – no high stained glass windows her – but there is already someone awake.

"The mass isn't for another hour," a man's voice says.

"Not here for that, sorry," Trevor says. "We heard at the tavern that you might have a cart to sell here. We're looking for one, and in bit of a hurry, so..."

The priest hesitates at that and then comes closer to take a better look at them – and no wonder. The guy's eyes are almost milky white, clearly going blind. "It is not my cart to sell, I'm afraid," he says hesitantly. "You are travellers?"

"Something like that," Trevor says, looking at him and then at the church. The cross above the altar is painted wood, and judging by the looks if it, the man hasn't been able to afford the full assortment of candles in a while – no wonder they're not lit yet, he must be saving them for the mass.

"How about bit of charity then," Trevor suggests. "You donate the cart to us, and we donate money to the church."

"Ah, that is..." the priest hesitates again, running a hand over his sparse beard.

Trevor takes out the money purse Alucard had given him and then pours some of the contents to his palm. "I can be pretty charitable," he offers as the priest peers at his hand half blindly.

"Well," the priest hems and haws and finally sighs. "It is a gracious offer to be sure but there's one problem," he says and scratches at his bald spot. "It's not a cart."

It's a coach.

* * *

 

They leave the village few hours past sunrise, with Trevor's purse a lot lighter and Alucard safely cloistered inside the coach while Sypha and Trevor ride on front. It's different, travelling in sunlight, and it's definitely different, travelling with a coach. Trevor's been forced to get by on foot for so long that he'd forgotten how ass-breakingly jumpy the damn things can be.

Sypha drives the thing like a master, though – that nomadic Speaker way of life showing its benefits at last.

"We should make some good time with this, if we can keep the horses alive," Trevor muses, trying to get comfortable on the bench. Next time, he'd grab a blanket to shove under his ass, definitely.

"We had better," Sypha says firmly. "They're good horses, these ones – proper coach horses."

"It's a long way to Lupu, anything might happen," Trevor shrugs and gets out the map Alucard had gotten, examining it. They'd lagged behind on the first week, thanks to night travel on foot being such a pain in the ass, but if the roads stayed good and no demon hordes appeared their way... they might make it to Lupu in week or two.

That much faster to meet their fucking doom. Great.

"Well, at least now we'll be travelling in comfort," Trevor mutters. "I'm pretty sure I broke a toe somewhere in there."

Sypha doesn't say anything for a moment, concentrating onto the road and the horses. She'd discarded the coach whip the moment she'd seen it, but judging by the looks of it she doesn't seem to need it.

"Do you love him?" she asks suddenly.

"Don't be stupid," Trevor answers and puts the map away with a sigh.

"But..." she frowns a little, her hands tightening on the reins. "Why then?"

"Because why not?" Trevor asks and leans back – not that it helps, the coach' carriage rattles even more than the bench under their ass. There is just no getting comfortable here. "He's gorgeous and the chance was there."

Sypha casts him a glance, looking conflicted.

"If you're going to start to go on about sodomy being a sin -" Trevor starts with a frustrated sigh.

"Oh, I don't care about that," she mutters and looks ahead again. "I just think... he is..."

Trevor looks at her, bit more seriously now. Was that it, then? She hasn't shown any interest one way or the other – but Alucard was her legendary vampire messiah, after all. Who knows, maybe the Speaker stories even pointed her that way – maybe Trevor was poaching on her territory. He didn't particularly care but... he did like her enough to feel a bit guilty.

Sypha trails off, unable to continue.

"Sypha," Trevor says and then sighs in frustration. What to tell her? That everyone he'd ever loved died in a fucking fire in front of him? Why the hell would that even matter – all it would do was make her pity him.

No, he doesn't love Alucard – doesn't think he can ever love anyone, not like that. That doesn't mean he doesn't want. He's only human – and Alucard is on a whole different plain of desirable.

He looks away. "If he'll have me again, I'll have him," he says simply. "I'm sorry if that bothers you, but I'm not sorry to do it."

Sypha takes a breath and then lets it out in a sigh that's too sharp to be anything but exasperation. "His mother was human," she says.

Trevor hums in agreement, and tries not to think what it must've been like for her, to be with Dracula. Was Dracula so cool to touch too? Definitely not something he'd though he'd be thinking about from the angle of shared experience. Shit.

"And his father went completely insane when she died," Sypha continues. "We live such short lives in comparison to theirs. Alucard is already old beyond our understanding, and he's young as his kind goes... as far as I can tell, anyway."

"Tch," Trevor answers and looks at the trees they're passing by. So she's worried about Alucard's feelings. Of course she is. "I doubt he's harbouring any profound attachment," he mutters. "He'll be fine."

"He said, you'd share a profound bond, remember?" Sypha says quietly. "I thought it was something different, but now..."

Trevor doesn't answer for a long while, staring at the scenery around them. "Well he also said I'll live to have kids," he mutters then, something he very much doubts. "Take that as you will."

Sypha sighs and thankfully falls quiet.

* * *

 

Sypha reins the horses beautifully, resting them when they need to be rested and guiding the coach gently through patches where the road seems to be swallowed by an encroaching swamp. By the time sun starts setting, the horses are tired but not exhausted, and Sypha selects a spot near a clear looking pond to stop for the night.

"It looks the best place for the horses to rest," she says, and then gets onto the business of getting the horses off their harnesses and to the water where they drink their fill while she does she can to brush them down.

Trevor tries to help her until she glares at him and looks pointedly at the coach and with hands held up in defeat, Trevor goes.

 Alucard is wide awake inside, sitting on the single seat there, facing the containers of grain, water and food they'd bought at the village. "Stopping for the night then?" he asks, uncrossing his legs.

"Sun's not down yet," Trevor says and steps inside. Alucard looks at him warily and then makes space for him, and Trevor sits down beside him with a sigh.

Inside the coach the seat is cushioned. Of course it is.

They sit in silence for a moment, Trevor not sure what to say or do, and Alucard doing absolutely nothing. Trevor doesn't particularly feel like starting anything either – his ass must be black and blue after the ride, and feeling doesn't exactly lend itself to bedroom activities.

"I still think it's foolish," Alucard says finally and closes his eyes with a sigh. "But I will have you, if that's what you're worried about."

Trevor's heart skips a beat. "I'm not," he mutters and looks at him. There are no windows on the coach and it's almost pitch black there after the last few wholes were patched up with wool – but even in that dim light Alucard holds ethereal, unreal beauty.

The vampire smiles and opens his eyes just a little. "I knew I would love you long before I met you," he says almost sadly. "I did all I could to avoid it, but..."

Trevor swallows, staring at him. "You don't."

"But I will," the vampire says and reaches a pale, cool hand to stroke it down Trevor's cheek. "You are my first human – you will not be the last, but you are the first. And I will carry the memory of you for eons after your death. I will hold your name to myself, claim it for myself, and then leave it behind, and I will never stop loving you. No I don't love you yet, but I will, and it already hurts."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Trevor mutters and for a moment leans into Alucard's hand, more to avoid looking at his eyes. This definitely isn't something he signed for, fucking hell. "You're over dramatic romantic sap. No wonder I don't like you."

Alucard laughs and Trevor leans in, to press a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "I don't like you at all," Trevor mutters resentfully and kisses his cool cheek.

"Mmm, yes, you loathe my very existence," Alucard hums and tilts his head back as Trevor's kisses a trail down his neck.

"You're a wretched, despicable monster, and I despise you," Trevor grumbles against his skin and grits his teeth as Alucard's hand slips sweetly from his cheek over his ear and through his hair before settling at the back of his neck.

"Stay still," Alucard says, smiling, and kisses Trevor's tight lips with gentleness that will one day break something in Trevor, and right now feels like the most dangerous thing in the world.

"I think I like you better when you're trying to tear my hair off." Trevor mutters at him, even as he chases after his lips.

"I can do that too," Alucard says and clenches his fist. Trevor huffs out a breath and stares at the ceiling as his throat is bared and he doesn't feel a bit of fear even as Alucard goes for his neck. God, he really is all gone, isn't he?

Alucard hums in satisfaction and Trevor resigns himself to ruin.

* * *

 

The next morning, they continue on their way towards north, towards village of Lupu – and Dracula's castle. Trevor still is pretty damn sure they're all going to just die there, die in their destined attempt of defeating the greatest evil to have ever appeared on the lands of Wallachia. They're still so hopelessly outmatched, it's not even funny.

And the worse thing is that Trevor doesn't really want to die. Living is a little more than just a luxury now, and he'd rather keep on doing it a while longer if he could choose. Alucard and Sypha promise him a future that goes beyond his next tankard, beyond a tree to sleep under, beyond an endlessly aching empty belly. And he _wants_ that.

"We'll survive," Alucard promises him.

"We'll win," Sypha swears.

And Trevor believes them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that. It's not perfect, but it is finished.
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading and commenting, hope you enjoyed the thing. Till next time. :)

**Author's Note:**

> I love these assholes. My first fic in a new-ish fandom whoo


End file.
